06 Girlz Night Out
by Thescarredman
Summary: Anna takes the girls out to the mall to shop til they drop, and break the news about her new boyfriend. But it all hits the fan when they're spotted by a troop of IO agents, and their lives will never be the same.
1. Secret's Out

San Diego  
Friday March 24 2006

"I'm _so _glad you guys are coming with me. This is going to be _fun._"

Caitlin was at the wheel of the minivan, as usual, with Sarah riding shotgun, also as usual; Roxy shared the second seat with Anna. "So, what do you want to do at the mall, Anna? Sears having a sale?"

"Roxanne, I wouldn't drag you all out with me to bargain hunt at the housewares store. You like shopping for clothes, don't you?" Roxanne, she was sure, was speaking for all of them; the older girls, she noted, were listening, Sarah rather more intently than Caitlin. Just as expected.

"Are you kidding? Just hand me a credit card and step back. What's going on?"

"I thought we could go through some stores, grab something to eat at the food court, maybe catch a movie afterwards. My treat. I was looking for a little advice picking out girl stuff; I don't have much practice, and I plan to buy a lot. Help me out?"

Roxy glanced towards the front of the car; Anna saw her meet Sarah's eyes in the rear view mirror. "Sure. I mean, _I'd_ be glad to. How old's the girl you're shopping for?"

"Oh. I guess I wasn't clear about that. It's me. You see, I've been putting the moves on Mr. Lynch, and I _really_ need to start looking more like a girl and less like part of the furnishings." She could hear all three of them stop breathing for a few heartbeats, then resume.

Roxy was wide eyed. "_Why_?"

She shrugged. "It's not obvious? I'm crazy about him." She smiled. "Why would _you _wash a guy's shorts for two years?"

"So you haven't known him any longer than we have? I thought you two were together forever."

Anna studied the posture and body language of her fellow passengers. _It looks like Roxanne's taking this better than Caitlin, or even Sarah; or maybe the implications haven't sunk in yet. _"I met him a month before you did. To make a long story short, I was a guard in an IO storage facility he was interested in. It seems he was already planning his defection from IO, and he wanted to take some things with him. He … convinced me to come along with him. I've been working for him ever since."

Sarah spoke for the first time. "How far are you … capable … of taking a romantic relationship, Anna?"

_A very good question, Sarah, clear and direct. A question that could have saved Jack and me a lot of time that first night. _"As far as you, Sarah. Or anyone else in this car."

"And you think Lynch would … reciprocate your attention?"

Anna sat back in the seat. "I have every reason to think that he would."

Roxanne, surprisingly, got it first. "Gawd, you've already _done _it!"

"Caitlin. Hon, you just went through a stop sign."

"Well, well," said Sarah. "And I suppose the boys know already?"

"They found out by accident, night before last. They agreed to let me tell you, as long as it was soon." _And why are you behaving like a prosecutor, Sarah? I expected surprise, incredulity, denial – not this sitting-in-judgment attitude. What standard of conduct in your_ _rule book have I offended?_

"I'll bet." Sarah was coolly observing Caitlin, who was staring straight ahead as she pulled into the mall's parking garage; one tire rode over the center divide as she turned up the ramp. Anna was sitting behind Sarah; she leaned forward and laid a hand on Caitlin's shoulder. "Are you okay, hon?"

Still looking straight ahead, the girl took one hand off the wheel, reaching back to pat Anna's hand absently. "I'm fine. I just need to find a bathroom as soon as we get in."

As soon as they were inside, Caitlin headed for the nearest bathroom without a word. Roxanne hesitated, then hurried after her, glancing back at Anna and Sarah. They stood in silence for several minutes before Sarah spoke.

"So. You're here to buy clothes to make yourself pretty for Lynch, and you want some fashion advice. Are you looking for pointers for the rest of your performance, or is _he _giving you all the instruction you need?" The venom in her voice was startling.

"I imagine I should be blushing, right about now."

"But you can't, can you?"

"No. One of many things I can't do – like understand your attitude. Where's all this hostility coming from, Sarah? I thought _you, _of all people, would be ready to show me some tolerance."

Sarah wouldn't meet her eyes, but her voice was firm. "It isn't just _you _I'm expected to show tolerance for, and, you know, some things don't deserve tolerance. Isn't it just like a man, to want a woman he can mold into any shape he wants, even if she isn't really human; and you're so damned eager to fit in, you're letting him do it."

Anna shook her head. "I'm not following orders, Sarah. I'm following a dream."

"Well, wake up and look around, then, because you're trying _way _too hard to pass for something you're not."

_Jack, you were so right. Having the kids find out about us is complicating our relationships already. Sarah was always the proper, distant one with me, the only one who actually treated me like a servant; I should have been looking for trouble with her. So far, just about all my guesses about the kids' reactions have been wrong. How could I know so little about them after two years, living with them, studying them? How can I model myself so successfully on their behaviors, yet guess so wrong about their reactions to something new?_

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that you think I'm being uppity, and don't know my place. I'm sorry I dragged you along, on what's probably going to be a miserable afternoon for you. I'm especially sorry to be in a position where my happiness seems to detract from yours. This isn't about you, Sarah. It's between me and Jack."

"Oh, and what about Caitlin? This isn't about her either, I suppose."

_So, that's finally out in the open, at least between the two of us. _"Nothing was going to happen between them, Sarah, not ever. Jack has a strong code of ethics, even if it's so foreign to yours that you have trouble believing it exists. There was no way he could bring her into his life as a lover and maintain his self–respect."

"And yet, _you _got past his reserve."

"I'm not in the same position. Besides, Caitlin couldn't have used my methods, not and maintain _her _self-respect. I was aggressive and shameless."

"What did you do, threaten to quit baking?"

She felt the corner of her mouth twitch, but not in a smile. "The way to a man's heart."

She was relieved to see Caitlin on her way back with Roxanne. What little makeup the tall redhead had worn was scrubbed off, but she looked calm. Her arm was looped through Roxy's and they were both smiling. "All set. Where to first?"

"Where do you shop? Vickie's? I think it would be a big help, just to see you pick something out for yourselves." _And more importantly, what you wouldn't buy, and why._ "Roxanne, what's wrong?"

"No dinero." She looked embarrassed. "At least, not enough for something worth buying."

"Sweetheart, I said this was _my _treat, didn't I? You go in there and pick out the nicest outfit you can find; explain as you shop, so I can do for myself when you're not around."

Caitlin looked at the display window. "I don't shop here, Anna. There's not a thing in here that'll fit me." She looked down at Anna, forty-three centimeters shorter and half her size. "And the places I shop wouldn't have anything to fit _you_."

Anna looked up, meeting her gaze. "There has to be common ground somewhere, hon. What about jewelry? I'm going to need some of that, too." _You couldn't pierce my ears with a power drill, but – _"Bracelets and necklaces require shopping technique too, don't they?" She started towards the door, and the others followed.

"Sure. Did you want some perfume? That stuff can set you back a fortune, but I've got some that's pretty good, and it doesn't cost an arm and a leg."

_Caitlin, you're a darling to offer and I love you to pieces, but I'd rather douse myself with vinegar than bring your scent to Jack's bed, let him smell it on his pillow the next morning, and again when he sits next to you at breakfast. _"Thanks, but I've already got a recommendation for perfume. I'll be picking it up later."

Sarah said wryly, "Am I included in this deal?"

"Absolutely. I'm sure I could learn a lot from you, if you're willing, Sarah."

"Does your man know we're all going shopping on his dime?"

"It's _my_ treat, not his. I earn a salary."

"_Really._ I thought that was just part of the masquerade. When did he start _paying _you for your services?"

She glanced back at Sarah. Caitlin and Roxanne, bringing up the rear, exchanged looks. Anna said levelly, "He offered me a paycheck when _you_ arrived."

Roxanne snorted.

"No, really, he insisted. About three weeks before you all arrived, Mister Lynch told me that he was going to need a lot of help with the house and with you, and if I would take on the job, he expected me to accept payment for it. He claimed he'd have to hire two full-time employees and several part-timers to match the twenty-hour days I was putting in – if he could find anybody competent that he could trust - and that my compensation would reflect that. Housekeeper, cook, personal assistant, security and bodyguard detail, groundskeeper – by the time he added it all up, he made it sound like he was getting a bargain at a hundred thousand a year."

"A _hundred grand_ a year? That's _some_ allowance."

"I don't spend ten percent of it; I don't know what he expects me to _do _with it. Most of it's still in my savings account. Anyway, I think I can afford a shopping spree for four." She looped her arm inside Sarah's elbow and pulled her rather stiffly into the store. "Come on, kids, let's spend some money."

-0-

Waiting for his IO contact in the westering light, Lynch heard movement below him: tires crunching gravel, a slammed door, and footsteps on the long flight of wooden stairs. His man came in the door, and shut it behind him; the low sun through the window flashed on his black-rimmed glasses. "Lynch, next time I'm picking the meeting place. We can be seen for miles here."

"Not if we're careful. There's no one around for miles, and if there were, we'd see them."

"Okay. I'm still picking the next meet. Maybe someplace with food and music."

It was the man's usual gripe, his notion of a casual greeting; Jack ignored it. "You're late, Colby. I was about ready to blow it off."

"That would've been smart, but I'm glad you didn't. I had to shake a tail. Three, in fact." The man stepped toward Jack, offering his hand. "You look good. _Real _good." The comment wasn't a polite remark; he looked Lynch over with careful appraisal. "Been getting more sleep?"

"Less than ever, actually, but better rest."

"Well, whatever you're doing, keep it up."

"Not the first time I've heard that lately."

"Good to hear you've still got friends."

If IO had used recruiting posters, Colby would be the sort of man selected to pose for them: tall, Teutonic-looking, with blond hair and blue eyes, clean-shaven and clean-limbed. Thirteen years younger than Jack, he had risen fast in the organization for reasons that had nothing to do with his looks. After two enlistments in the Army, followed by a brief stint on the L. A. police, he'd been recruited by IO, which was always looking for people who knew how to handle violence. Initially assigned to the Operations Directorate, he'd started out in one of IO's numbered X-teams, which meant that he'd been marked as a stone killer from the start. His skill at planning successful ops based on sketchy intelligence had jumped him over to administration early; his pragmatism and proven loyalty to the Company had quickly pushed him up the ladder to the job of Assistant Director of Operations, one of International Operations' top ten positions. He was also John Lynch's number-one inside man at IO and, therefore, the second biggest reason why the kids weren't back in IO custody, being shaped into psychotic super-assassins like the Callahan kids.

Jack grasped the offered hand firmly. "Three tails? Whose were they?" _What other outfit would have the balls to shadow senior IO executives?_

"Ivana's, I'm sure. Part of a whole team, I'm also sure. She's finally guessed that you're getting help from inside; I think she's putting tails on all the senior people."

"What about Alicia?"

"No special attention so far. Frankly, she's not the only one at her level who's helping me; she's just the only one who knows she's helping _you._ Ivana's … leadership style doesn't do much for morale or esprit de corps. The organization isn't as tight as it used to be; hidden agendas and … elastic ethics are common now. A lot of people get a kick out of doing little favors for the Assistant Director that they know would piss off the Chief, as long as they're _very _sure she won't find out." He drew a small manila envelope from his coat pocket. "Ivana's authorized Level One blanket investigations, feet on ground, in seven areas; two of them are in the States: New York – and San Diego."

"Too close."

"We've _got _to shift their attention to one of the five foreign areas. Study them, formulate some possibilities, and get back to me ASAP." Jack's and Colby's roles in such subterfuges were well defined by now. Colby would tweak the data coming in, to diminish the significance of the San Diego investigation, and convince the Powers that it was a dead end. Meanwhile, Jack would plant disinformation at the other investigations, sending IO's human assets haring off down promising trails that would inexplicably peter out.

"I can do that now. Expect a few sightings in the countryside around Stuttgart. Thanks, Colby. With three shadows, I'm surprised you made it here at all."

"Wasn't as hard as it should have been. Ivana's not hiring the talent we used to, and the guys who could have taught them better fieldcraft … well, they're gone, one way or another. We're not the global secret policeman we used to be; our direction is – elsewhere."

"Dog wardens for Project Genesis."

"Yeah. Kinda chilling, when the people who hold our nation's life in their hands start thinking that … all our problems can be solved with a company of unstoppable assassins. Anyway, you've got the next time and location. I've got to get back, while it's still plausible that I 'accidentally' lost them. They're probably stirred up as a nest of hornets."

"Lose them in a crowd?"

"A shopping mall."


	2. The New Me

"Hoo! Kat, do you suppose Shoppers Anonymous has their world headquarters around here?"

"If they did, the Chamber of Commerce would firebomb the office. Did you realize that there are _six _shopping malls within five miles of our house?"

"I do now. Anna, are you _sure_ you're not being driven into bankruptcy? If Kat wasn't here, we couldn't even carry the _bags_."

"Not even close, sweetheart. I planned on spending big today; this is a special occasion: my 'coming-out party', sort of."

"You haven't bought as much for yourself as you have for us," Caitlin observed. Throughout the afternoon, Anna had watched the girls go through the racks, asking questions and presenting items for critique. Caitlin had soberly made some jewelry selections for her approval, dainty pieces unlike the stuff she herself wore; even when Anna had insisted the girl pick out something for herself, she noticed, she chose something Anna could borrow. Sarah, however, had chosen nothing, either for herself or to recommend, although she had searched through every rack, sometimes looking at Anna appraisingly. Roxy had been the most ebullient, talking almost nonstop and presenting clothing articles one after another for discussion and comparison; at her insistence, Anna had purchased a few pieces that were undeniably pretty, but, she suspected, a bit juvenile in style; no doubt they would find their way to Roxy's closet in due course.

"I will, hon. I'm just warming up, believe me. Anybody hungry? How about getting something to eat?" She started down the corridor, towards the food court.

"For gods' sakes, Anna, _stop it_!" It was Sarah's voice, the first time she'd spoken to her without being prompted since they started shopping. The irritation in it was unmistakable.

She stopped, turning back to her. "What's wrong?"

Sarah looked at her, somehow looking disapproving and entertained at once; the word "catty" came to mind. "That _walk! _The way you're rolling those hips, it looks like you're _advertising._ Where did you pick _that_ up?"

"I thought it looked good on you, so I copied it."

"You-?"

"I learned this walk from watching you. It appears to be very effective at catching a man's interest. It doesn't seem to have the same effect when I do it, though; it must look different on you. I get quite a few second glances, but twice today, I've seen a guy follow _you_ right past his destination and have to double back."

Sarah turned to the other two girls with a can-you-believe-this look that faded into blank disbelief when she saw their averted faces. She stared at them, a dark flush spreading on her broad Indian features.

"_You _might have told me."

Roxy said, "We thought you were doing it on purpose, Sarah. I mean, it isn't like you do that stuff all the time any more, just once in a while." She couldn't help adding, "When Bobby's not around. Usually."

_Well, her dark complexion hides it pretty well, but it's a beacon in infrared – worse than the other two._ "I'm not sure what just happened here, Sarah, but I wasn't making fun of you; quite the opposite."

"Never mind. It doesn't matter." She turned back and pushed past, towards the food court.

Caitlin watched her go. "You know why she does that."

"What, act like a total bitch?" Roxy left in pursuit.

She turned to Anna. "No, I mean that femme fatale routine."

Anna looked at the departing figures. "She does it when she feels threatened or uncomfortable, or when she's in a new environment, or otherwise feeling unsure of herself. It's a sort of armor, and it makes her feel as if she has a measure of control over her situation. She may not like boys, but the attention of men is familiar, and makes her feel safe." She smiled. "And she _does_ know how to drive guys crazy."

By this time, Roxy had caught up with Sarah, and a heated argument was developing as they walked. Anna tuned her hearing to pick it up as she and Caitlin followed.

"_What_ is your problem? Why are you being such a pain in the ass about this? Why _can't_ she have some fun with Mr. Lynch? Nobody seems to have a problem with it but you. It's like you were _jealous_ or something."

"I couldn't care less that she's letting him use her for sex. If I'd known she was capable, I'd have expected it long before now. It's the way she pretends to be in love with him that burns me to the core."

"How do you know she's not? I think it's sweet."

"It's obscene. Roxanne, love is a union of souls. Anna doesn't have one."

"Huh?"

"Anna's a very sophisticated machine. We talk as if it has a gender, but it's just a courtesy; it could have just as easily been made to look male. It smiles at appropriate times and seems to take an interest in your homework, but it's just programming. Listen to me. That creature behind us is made of plastic and metal; no part of it is alive. It's a made thing, Roxy."

"Well, so am I. I was made by accident, by a pothead teenager trying to piss off her dad and a horn dog soldier cheating on his wife with a little jailbait. The only reason I'm here is cuz she was fresh out of rubbers and they were both too buzzed to care. So much for the miracle of conception." Her voice was low, but scorching. "But I'm more than my beginnings, and _she _is more than whatever it is they designed her to be. And you know what? Knowing the 'appropriate' time to smile is no small thing. She makes _me _smile. And she could give lessons on human kindness to a _lot _of people."

_Note to self, _Anna thought, never_ bring up the results of the DNA tests you've done on these girls. What would Roxy do if she found out her mother was mistaken about the identity of her father? Or if Sarah were to learn about the rest of her family?_

Caitlin said, "They're really going at it, aren't they? Frankly, I'm glad they're out of earshot, watching them is bad enough. I'm sorry, Anna. Maybe we should all just go home."

"Nonsense. Be patient, hon, things are going to get better; Sarah just needs some time."

They caught up with the other two girls at a table at the food court, a large open space decorated with artificial trees and lined on three sides with food vendors. Anna reached into her small purse. "Looky here, I've got a mall gift card, good for food purchases. Mack out, guys."

Caitlin dropped the bags on the floor beside the table. She looked at Roxy and Sarah, who carefully avoided looking at each other. "I'm starving, all of a sudden. Maybe a meal will mellow everybody out. Watch the bags, Anna?"

"Sure."

The three girls left for the food counters, but Sarah came back as soon as the other two were in line.

"Aren't you hungry, Sarah?"

"Not really. It's just you and me now, so tell me: what were you trying to prove back there?"

Carefully, Anna said, "I was practicing an observed behavior that made an impression on me and I wanted to copy. Just as I said. I really didn't expect you to notice; and if you did, I _really_ didn't expect you to take offense. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

They were silent for a few moments; when they could see Caitlin and Roxy returning with trays, Sarah said, "When they get here, come with me. I've got something to show you. Or do you really want to sit here and watch them eat? _You_ don't eat, after all."

"Only when I have to."

"And when, exactly, would you _have _to?"

"When I need to prove that I can."

"Like, when you need to convince someone that you're human?"

The two girls arrived with their trays. Anna said, "We'll be back, okay? Just a few minutes, right, Sarah?"

"Not long," she agreed.

Caitlin looked doubtful; Roxy directed a sharp glance at Sarah. "Trouble, ladies?"

"No, no trouble, we're just going to look at something. We'll be right back."

Sarah led her back to a shop they'd visited half an hour before. Anna recalled that, while Roxanne had cruised wide-eyed through the racks in this store, she hadn't picked out anything, either for herself or to recommend. Caitlin hadn't even wanted to go inside. The models' pictures on the walls were all indoor shots, usually dressed only in undergarments, often with a creased cloth background that made it look as if they were lying in bed. Sarah led her to the back of the store. A sales clerk appeared, then drifted away as Sarah closed on a circular rack marked "CLEARANCE". She picked through a narrow arc of the rack, clearly looking for something, then drew out an item that flashed richly in the subdued spotlights.

"Here. If you're looking for something sexy, look at this. You'll turn the head of any man who sees you in it, I guarantee. What do you think of the material?"

"Oh. It's beautiful." It was a deep red with highlights that shone hotly where the light touched it just right; it looked heavy, but felt thin as paper between her fingers; Sarah drew it across Anna's hand, and it felt like flowing water. Then, the girl held it up to her chest; the color gave her dusky skin a deep glow.

"Wow." Anna glanced around the store displays, registering details at speeds no human could match. "There's not another one like it in the whole store. Isn't that odd? And why is this one in the markdown rack?"

"I'd guess all the others were sold," Sarah replied immediately. "This one is the last, and it's still here because it's an unpopular size." She held it out. "Yours."

Anna returned to the food court, bagged purchase on one arm, Sarah on the other, happy as a songbird. "Thank you, Sarah. I am _so_ glad you found this for me. But how can I pay you back when you won't let me buy you so much as a stick of gum?"

"Don't mention it." She was looking straight ahead, towards the food court; she slipped her arm out of Anna's. "I mean, really. Don't mention it. Just let me see you wear that dress for your boyfriend. That's payment enough." They reached the seating area.

The girls were gone, the table bare.

After three milliseconds of purely automatic alarm, Anna's systems went into alert mode, reflexes in hyperdrive, all senses magnified. Before her human companion noticed anything amiss, she had examined the area for clues. First, the table was _bare_: it had been cleared, and two empty trays were on top of the waste receptacle three steps away. The shopping bags were gone. No swift abduction, then; no hasty departure. Infrared showed the seats were still higher than ambient, probably occupied within the last fifteen minutes. Could they have been lured away?

Shortly after the kids had arrived at Lynch's house and been placed under her care, she had decided that she had better have some means of knowing their whereabouts at any given time; their lives might depend on it, and privacy be damned. She had bugged several of their most closely held possessions with devices that allowed her to locate them, either by GPS at long range, or directly through her own systems at closer range. She queried this system now, and was relieved to find that the girls were less than a hundred meters away, approaching them at walking pace, from the direction of the parking garage.

"Well, where did they go?"

"I'm sure they're fine," she said. "Probably dropping all those bags off at the car. Look, there they are." She waved.

"We unloaded our loot," Roxy said, with a look at her sister. "Um, I think we're about done shopping."

"I should think so," Caitlin added, returning the look. "Anna, the sales tax on this stuff probably wiped out California's deficit."

"Well, _I'm _not done yet. But there's no need to make you tag along while I pick out stuff; I think I'm ready to fly solo anyway. Roxanne, that actor you like so much, the one who looks like Orlando Bloom?"

"Ethan Stills."

"Did you notice he has a new movie out?"

"No! Really? Another pirate movie? He looks _so _hot in long hair…"

"A smushy love story, I think: pure chick flick."

"Where? When?"

"Here, in the multiplex." She grinned. "Probably showing on six screens, starting every fifteen minutes. That gift card has plenty of credit on it. Take in a show, and I'll meet you back here."

"Are you sure about going off by yourself? What if we miss each other?" Caitlin was being methodical, as usual. "We need a second place to meet."

"If I'm not here, I'll still be at Estrellita's." She gestured towards a wing of the mall they hadn't traveled. "It's a new place, not much custom, but the sales girl I met there is really helpful. Don't worry, hon, I'll be fine. Go with Roxy."

Sarah said, "I'm not sure I can stand watching Roxanne drool over Prince Charming for two hours."

"It's set in the Great Plains, late nineteenth century: your favorite period, isn't it?"

"Yeah, you just _love _picking apart all the parts where Hollywood got it wrong, Sarah. Kat can admire the cinematography, and we'll all walk out happy."

"Well, it's settled, then." Anna started walking. "See you in a couple hours."

_An altogether instructive afternoon, _she thought. She now felt confident that she could enter a women's clothing store, make a long series of purchases, chat with sales staff and other customers, and complete her day's task without raising any suspicions.

Time to go see Elise.

The sign over the wide doorway said, "Estrellita's," and, beneath, in much smaller letters, "For all the women you need to be." The phrase had spoken to her as she'd passed by the doorway on that tentative first shopping trip, almost a week ago, and had drawn her in. Once again, she stepped through, and a chime rang. A few feet away, an attractive woman of about thirty-five was arranging clothing on a rack; she looked over. "Annie!" She grinned with what seemed to be genuine pleasure. "How's it going, Tinkerbelle?"

"Lise, I'm _so _glad you're working today. I need some more help."

"Gotta be here everyday, it's my store. And 'help' is my middle name." She looked Anna over. "Isn't this the same outfit you wore last time you were here?"

"Most of my outfits look the same – which is part of what I need help with."

"Too right. How'd the dress work for you?"

"Well, after Jack saw it, he said to come back to _you_ for more, because, I quote, 'she knows her girl stuff.'"

"A man of superior taste. Okay, so what all are you here to get?"

"Everything. Jack said 'fill up the car,' and he wasn't talking about the gas tank. 'I'm buying. Fill up your closet.'"

Elise raised one carefully sculpted eyebrow. "Well! You must have been a _very _bad girl last night."

"God knows I tried." Elise laughed; seven milliseconds later, Anna joined her.

"Okay, then, where to start. Can I assume that you're picking out this whole new wardrobe with your man in mind?"

"Definitely."

"Okay, then, start telling me about him."

"Beg pardon?"

"Sweetie, how can I help you pick out stuff that he'll go crazy over, if I don't know what he's like? I don't need sweaty details," she said, mistaking Anna's look. "But, contrary to what some girls think, guys are _not _all alike."

_Could it be this simple? Hours of research, and all I really needed was a girlfriend to talk to?_

"For example: are you going to need a lot of evening wear? Do you go out together a lot?"

"No, Jack travels a lot when he's working; otherwise, he likes to stick close to home. He's got a beautiful place in La Jolla. It's almost like going to a resort."

"Rich, huh? Inherited?"

"No way. Like I said, he works."

Elise looked at her speculatively. "So … how old is this rich man you're seeing?"

"Quite a bit older," she admitted. "Late fifties. But he looks younger, and he's _awesomely _fit. Kind of like Clint Eastwood in those Dirty Harry movies, or maybe 'The Eiger Sanction'."

"Awesomely fit. As in, 'I can lick anybody on the tennis court at the club'?"

"As in, 'I have just enough time to get in my five mile run after my swim before my hour at the pistol range'. Iron Man contest fit, and never mind those silly age brackets. He used to be in some kind of covert Special Forces outfit; he keeps himself in shape like his life depends on it." _Which it most likely does._

Elise's manner changed abruptly. She said quietly, "Annie … does he ever get weird on you?"

"Huh?"

"Scary. Dangerous. Moody. Sometimes those guys do."

"Oh." She pretended to consider. "Well, I've known him for two years. He's had his problems in the past, but they're all behind him now. He's got a son and four step kids living with him, and he's always been great with them. And he was a perfect gentleman to me, right up until I … persuaded him not to be."

Elise looked unconvinced. "If that ever changes, leave him and don't look back. I mean it, Annie; I don't _care _how nice he is between bad times. Don't give him a chance to hit you twice; don't stand for it even once."

"Elise," she said earnestly, "the very _idea _of Jack hitting me is ludicrous beyond words. Trust me. It'll never happen."

"Okay." The woman relaxed. "You wouldn't believe the excuses women make up for bastards like that, sometimes."

"Jack is a lamb. But now and then he has bad dreams, and when the pressure's on at work, he sometimes drinks himself to sleep."_ And when he reaches into that other dimension for the power to make people's eyeballs spang out of their heads, it reminds me of demonic possession, but don't all guys have their little quirks?_

"Okay. What else might I need to know about him?"

"He has an eye for quality; when he buys something, he looks at the price, but it's the last thing he looks at. He says it's the only way to get your money's worth. Um, what else? All of his senses are sharp; he's not all audio-visual like a lot of people are. He likes to touch and smell things, and I _know _he appreciates good cooking. I've seen him run his hand over the trunk of a tree, just to feel it – and that reminds me, do you sell perfume? I've _got_ to pick some out today."

"Yes, but we'll do that last. Okay, older guy, lots of life experience, likes to do things differently, adventurous. Sensual." The woman placed a finger under Anna's chin to tip her head back, a gesture not too different from Jack's. "How tall is he? Do you have to stand on tiptoe to kiss him?"

"Uhh … Lise, we've never actually kissed standing up." _My, that eyebrow's getting a workout today. I don't know what I said, but I made an impression._

"Hmm. There are … things … you might want that I don't sell, but I know some decent places that do. You don't have to answer, Annie, but if you do, I can help you. Is Jack … kinky?"

_And I thought I was ready for this. She's had me ducking and dodging since I walked in. What is she talking about? And how should I answer?_

Very cautiously, she said, "Define 'kinky'."

Elise stared for just a moment, then laughed. This time, Anna didn't dare join in. "Okay, Little Miss Innocent, that'll teach me to mind my own business." She looked at Anna appraisingly. "Let's head back to the fitting room."

"I don't have anything to try on yet."

"First, let's see what we've got to work with." She eyed Anna's bag, with its plainly visible store logo. "Ditch that under the counter as you go by."

Entering the fitting area through a solid door, Anna saw three stalls, side by side, each fronted with a salon-style door that reached from a foot off the floor to just below chin height. Immediately outside each booth was a small clothes rack; this arrangement allowed customers to try out an armful of clothes with one trip to the booth.

"I've never seen a fitting room laid out like this; don't you worry about shoplifters?"

"The single door makes it easier to keep track of what goes in and out; believe me, I know what my customers bring in here." She pointed to a booth. "Let me know when you're down to your undies. You're _wearing _undies, aren't you?"

"Never leave home without them. Elise, we didn't do this last time."

"Hmph. Last time was easy. You remember what you asked me for, that day you walked in here, looking at my goods like you'd made a landing on an alien world? You wanted a pretty dress, one that would make a guy look at you differently. Frankly, Tink, _any _change would have been an improvement."

"Oh, come on. I see women wearing blue jeans all the time."

"Yeah, well, I bet they didn't buy _theirs _in bulk. From Mechanics' Surplus. Quit stalling. "

"Shoes, too?"

"Of course; and socks." The doorway chime sounded. "I'll be back. Bra, panties, skin. Nothing else."

She undressed quickly and stared at herself in the mirror that formed the back wall of the small booth. _Relax; there's nothing unusual about the way you look with your clothes off. How many times have you stared in the mirror with some women's wear catalog, comparing, looking for discrepancies? Didn't you tell Jack you could pass a strip search? He's been examining you pretty thoroughly himself lately, and if he's ever noticed anything odd about you, he's never mentioned it._ She hung her clothes on the rack outside the booth, and waited.

Presently, Lise's face appeared above the salon door. "Okay, hands on your head and turn, slowly."

"What -"

"Shush." Elise made a twirling motion with her finger; Anna complied.

"Well, you may be one of the six women in this town who haven't had a boob job, but nobody's going to mistake you for a boy, either. Thirty-two … B?"

"B for 'barely', Lise." _That first time, we had to buy three sizes to be sure of getting something that fit; I've never seen Jack so flustered._

"Size two, for sure. Your skin is absolutely flawless, and in case no one's ever told you, sweetie, you've got the face of an angel. Your makeup's awfully subtle, though."

"I'm not wearing makeup."

"Get outta here! Those are _your_ lashes? I suppose you don't do anything with your eyebrows, either."

"If I did, I don't think they'd grow back."

"Hey, you don't have vellum hair … not _anywhere._ Do you bikini wax _all over_?"

"I don't depilate at all." _Is that unusual? The girls don't shave more than once a week._

"You mean you don't shave? Not your legs, even? _Pits_?"

"No. Like I said, anything I shave just doesn't grow back."

"Tink, you can tell _me_ anything. But don't _ever _tell that to another woman, unless you want to make an enemy." She grinned.

"Okay," Anna said, uneasily. _I don't think a doctor conducting a strip search would have noticed. Was it a mistake to place myself in the hands of this woman? But I need her advice, and her eye for what looks right on me. Just keep dodging, Anna._

"So, how does a girl get to be your age without knowing anything about clothes or makeup? Were you raised by nuns, or what?"

"Wolves. Let's just say that I spent my early years in an environment where … things like fashions and makeup and hairstyles had very low priority."_ And baths, too._

"O-kay. Speaking of hairstyles, have you thought about growing your hair out? Even at chin length, there'd be a lot of different ways to style it."

"My hair takes forever to grow, Elise. How about a wig?"

"I can give you the name of a good shop, but, as a rule, I don't recommend wigs. One that fits well and looks real is expensive, and they get hot; you wouldn't _believe _how much body heat comes from the human head." Elise continued her examination. "No body piercings, no tats … Jeez, you've even got pretty _feet! _Not a crooked toe or a callus; I _hate_ you."

"How about if I drop a hammer on my foot before I come back?"

"Clever. Perfect pedicure – and manicure, too. Gotta say, I don't see flesh-colored nail polish all that often, but on you it's okay. And that clear coat looks an inch deep. Who does your nails?"

"What maintenance I need, I do myself." _Not that I ever do anything with my nails: that's not polish; it's what they're made of. And I can cut glass with them._

"We have _got _to get you into some strappy sandals; open-toed shoes, too. Hm, that's odd."

"What?"

"Annie, you on your period?"

"My – no. What is it?"

"Just hang on. Hold your arms straight out from your sides … Okay, drop 'em and take a deep breath. Now, turn away from me and stand on tiptoe … Ouch. Um, I know it's what I _said, _but it's not what I _meant._ Just get down off your toes – that hurts just watching you – stand on the balls of your feet, with your heels off the floor. You studied ballet?"

"Oh, I pick up a smidgen of a lot of things; I read a lot."

"Bull. I just watched you do an effortless _releve sur les pointes _without shoes; that's not something you pick up out of a book."

"Well … one of Jack's step daughters is a very good dancer. What is it you're looking at?"

"There's something kind of odd about your muscle definition… like you hardly have any. When you're standing still, everything looks fine. Your belly's so flat I catch a hint of hip bone, and just a little vertical line above your navel, but no six-pack; matching line on your back, down to that cute little hollow in the small of your back. Arms and chin and shoulders firm and toned; legs are trim; buns are nice and tight without looking like you do a hundred squats a day. It's going to sound funny, but your build reminds me of one of my mannequins."

_Alert system engaged; chance of discovery two percent plus-minus one._

"When you inhale, your chest rises, but I don't see your ribs expanding under your skin, just your bottom ones. When you lift your arms, I'd expect to see your shoulder muscles bunch or flex from the front, and see your shoulder blades move from the rear, only I don't. And when you raise your heels, I don't see your calf muscles flex."

_Three percent plus-minus one._

"I thought maybe it was water retention, but I guess you've just got a little extra subcutaneous fat. You're sleek as a seal. I bet you don't spend hours at the gym, but you get regular exercise, and you're careful about what you eat."

_Less than one percent. Whew._

"Lise, I know you're trying to help, but this is starting to feel like an interrogation. Can I put my clothes back on now?"

"Not a chance, they're already bagged up. Girl, you are _not _walking out my door in _that _outfit; it'd be bad for business. You wait right there. Clothes are gonna be flying through the door. Start trying them on."

For an hour, Elise brought clothes to the booth: dresses, pants, skirts, shirts and shoes. Anna tried them all, under Elise's critical eye. At first, the woman rejected almost half of what she brought, and returned it to the displays; as she refined her notions of Anna's proper style, the rack outside the booth began to fill up. As she delivered garments, she explained her choices and gave Anna some basic instruction on picking clothes for a given occasion, and how to make her wardrobe more versatile with accessories. _Guess I needn't have bothered trying to learn how to pick out my own clothes. Elise is a walking primer._

"Does all your underwear look like this?" Lacy underthings were added to the assortment of articles on the shelf atop the rack; the one for the booth next to it began to fill.

Anna noticed that Elise's color selections tended towards pastels and tertiary colors. "Why not any bright colors?"

"Doesn't suit your complexion, dear. If you had even a bit of a tan, I'd widen the color palate more. But you can get a lot of variety with patterns, and primary colors are fine for accent, as long as you don't overdo it. I presume you're one of those burn-and-peel types?"

"I don't tan," she said, and left it at that.

"You can get a fake one from a tanning salon that looks pretty good; you might give it a try." Elise looked at the full racks. "I'd say you've got everything you need here, at least for now. Last stop, perfume and cosmetics. I don't have a big selection, but if I don't have it, you don't really want it."

At her tiny cosmetics display, no more than a large bookshelf with a three-way facial mirror and a counter the size of an ironing board, Elise made over Anna's face as she gave her a cram course on makeup: proper application, how to choose her palette, changing her appearance with different selections and applications. "A girl your age can look ten years younger or older with the right makeup." About perfume, she had more sparing advice. "Almost all perfume has either a musk or floral base; I suggest one of each kind, and switch off from time to time. That'll keep you from desensitizing your own nose, and help you avoid the _cardinal_ mistake of perfume application, which is putting on too much. Remember, a whiff of a girl's scent is a hint of intimacy to a man; offering every guy within fifty feet a noseful sends a _very _wrong signal."

"Hoo. Lise, you've been a lifesaver. How can I repay you?"

"Are you kidding? What you bought today made my overhead for the month. Besides, I haven't had so much fun since I opened this place. You're a jewel, Tink. Don't forget what I said about those other shops; I've got a list here for you." The woman appraised her like an artist inspecting her work, which, Anna was sure, she was. "What you've got on now, that's the one to wear home. When Jack gets an eyeful of you in that little dress, he'll know you didn't waste his money. By the way, how are you going to get all this out to the car?"

"I'm meeting some people in about half an hour. If it's okay, I'll leave it here and pick it up then."

"No problem, I'll just put them under the counter with this one, whatever it is."

Anna considered for a moment. "Lise, do me a favor. Will you take a look at this … and tell me what you think?" She handed over the bag with the red dress.

"I don't usually review the competition's stuff, Annie, but…" She drew it out, frowning. "This is for you? Who's the girl who sold it to you?"

"No sales girl. A friend picked it out."

"You've got hooker friends? You're full of surprises, Annie."

"Oh, dear. It isn't really that bad, is it? It looked so pretty on her."

"She modeled it?"

"Well, no, it's not her size; she's bigger than I am and quite a bit curvier. She just held it up in front, but I thought it looked good."

"By any chance, is your friend Oriental? Latino?"

"Apache."

"O-_kay_. What's she look like?"

"Like a Hollywood version of Pocahontas. Gorgeous, like all of Jack's kids – even the boys."

"You girls been fighting?"

"Well, I accidentally embarrassed her pretty bad today, but I thought we had it all straightened out."

"Apparently not. Annie, I'd advise you to take this back."

"Clearance item; all sales final."

"I wonder why. Sweetie, this dress is _all_ wrong for you; you'd look ridiculous in it. Start with the color: it'd be okay for an accent piece, a scarf or belt, maybe even a vest, but you can't wrap yourself in it. You're too fair; it'd make you look washed-out, soapy, even. Then there's the neckline: it's made to show cleavage, but there's no support built in, and you can't wear a bra in it; you'd have to be really busty or wearing pushup pads. Finally, look at the hemline: it looks like it was cut three inches too short. As a mini, it wouldn't be too bad, but it's slit up the side so high, you'd have to wear Brazil-cut panties or a thong. A girl your height would need four-inch heels for your legs to look right in it. You ever walk in four-inch heels? Ah, never mind, little ballerina, betcha could. But the point is, this outfit would look better on almost _anybody_ besides you; it'd be obvious that you're _trying _to look sexy without a _clue_ what you're doing. You put this on, and you'll look like the new girl at the bordello."

"Oh." _"Just let me see you wear it for your boyfriend," indeed!_

"Sorry, hon, but if the girl knows how to dress herself, this was no accident. Make placemats out of it, or something."

"Okay, Lise, thanks. I should be back in less than an hour." She started through the door.

And stopped. Maybe the scare Caitlin had given her had raised her alert level a notch; she had paused imperceptibly at the doorway and scanned the crowd, everyone in sight.

Across the corridor and two doors down, a man looking her way raised his wrist towards his face; his lips moved briefly.

She bumped the heel of her hand against her forehead, just for show, and turned back into the store. "Lise, is there another way out of the store?"

"A service entrance, but mall security and my insurance company would go spastic if I let customers use it."

"_Please, _Lise? There's a guy outside; I think … he might be waiting for me, and I do _not _want to run into him."

The woman tensed. "Ex–boyfriend?"

"God, no. We used to work for the same company and I've been avoiding him ever since. His intentions towards me … aren't honorable."

"You want me to call security?" Anna heard the storekeeper's heartrate climb.

"Believe me," she said, eyes downcast, "it wouldn't do any good. The police either."

"I know what you mean." She absently put a hand on her abdomen. "A no-contact order's just a guarantee that they'll arrest him _after _he slits your throat."

Anna looked at her. "_You,_ Lise?"

"Let's just say I won't be wearing a bikini in public ever again. My ex's next parole hearing is in twenty- seven days and I plan to be there. And if he gets out anyway, you'll never see me again. The back door's to the right of the fitting room, kid. Go through the storage room to another door. There's a service corridor outside. Left leads to the loading dock; right takes you past the bathrooms back to the public areas."

"'Kay, Lise. Thanks a bunch." She gave her a peck on the cheek as she hurried past.

Once through the last door and into the service corridor, she felt the fear and anger building up like a thunderhead inside her. _So the bastards have finally found us. They must be waiting for us to leave, so they can nab us all together. Maybe they even want to follow us home, to locate the others … if they haven't got them already._

She executed a location query on her family. The girls registered immediately: they were close by in the direction of the theater, side by side, not moving; still watching the show, she presumed. The boys' transponders were together, and GPS located them at their favorite skateboard park, a few blocks from the house. Jack was unusually close, at the northeastern end of Miramar, the huge tract of hilly land staked out by the Marines as an air base. _And if this is a takedown operation, he might as well be in Shanghai; we'll never reach him._

_I need a plan, which means I need some intelligence on my opponents. Which means …_

One of her locked files jostled its way to the head of her execution queue and unzipped. With a small shock, she recognized it: the Alpha file. Only part of it loaded, but she felt instantly that it was different from the other "skill set" files she had ever triggered: as the code settled into her RAM, she felt _more _than the usual sensation of remembered knowledge; she _knew _she was up to the coming challenge of evading her pursuers and bringing her principals to safety. But with that certainty came an attitude different from anything she'd felt before, like a new persona, not replacing, but overlaying and augmenting her current personality. Her fear disappeared; her hot anger faded away, replaced by something cold and unyielding.

She turned right, towards the bathrooms and the mall proper.

_Which means one of the bastards is going to give it to me._


	3. Cat and Mouse

Ten feet ahead, the way turned right; she could see that the bare corridor walls changed to tile as they made the turn. Her footfalls, never noisy to begin with, became softer than the air from the ventilation ducts. She shifted once again into alert mode and her sharpened hearing caught a low voice, just around the corner.

"Six. In position, east restrooms."

_How many agents do they have here, that they can station one at each set of restrooms? And why?_

_Because this corridor also leads outside; they're not going to let us slip out that easily. Soon enough, one of them will go into Estrellita's looking for me._

She rounded the corner, carefully assuming a casual pace; in alert mode, it felt like pretending to walk underwater. A tall, clean-cut man, about her own apparent age, wearing jeans and a windbreaker, was leaning against the wall between the male and female bathroom entrances, as if waiting for someone. She noted the "family" bathroom to the left of his location, with a real steel door that could be locked from inside; the security cameras at each end of the hall; the communicator, disguised as a watch, which she knew would be worn on his off hand wrist, in this case his left. The slim instrument on the Velcro wristband on his gun hand, she knew, would be a bio monitor; it took his pulse every fifteen seconds, and if his heart rate dropped to zero or climbed above one hundred, it would send an attention signal to the team leader, warning him that one of his people was in trouble.

_But there's a way to spoof it – if you have the right equipment._

Her plan was formed before she had taken her second step down the hallway. He was only three more steps away. He turned his head towards her; she gave him a big sunny smile. He automatically began to smile back, then his eyes narrowed with the beginnings of suspicion; perhaps the new clothes and nightclub makeup had slowed his recognition. But she was only a step away, and it was far too late for him to do anything about it.

If mall security had happened to have an eye on those particular cameras, they would have thought they were watching two young people approach for a greeting, then a strange blur, then the couple locked in a crude but clearly passionate embrace. In fact, it was nothing of the sort.

The air _whooshed _out of him as her left arm crushed him to her with the force of a hydraulic ram. She'd given him just enough time to reach for his sidearm in its shoulder holster inside his coat, then pinned his hand between their chests, inches from the weapon; it had also pinned his monitor. Her synthetic heart rate was revved up to two hundred beats per minute; the monitor added their combined heart rates and tripped out at the impossible number, going into standby mode while it "hunted" for sensible input; it would do so for five minutes before it sent a trouble signal to the team leader.

Her right hand was gripping his testicles like a bear trap. She squeezed just hard enough to force him to be still, then looked up and said in a low voice, "If you want to keep these, do what I tell you." She tipped her head still further. "Kiss me." He swallowed and touched his lips to hers.

She inserted a touch of contempt into her voice. "Is that how you kiss your girlfriend? You don't _need_ balls, you'll never reproduce. Try it again. And grab my ass with your free hand." This time he made a better show of it, although his stiff posture telegraphed his alarm and humiliation. "Two baby steps to your right is a door. Let's go." She giggled like a schoolgirl as she herded him towards it, then turned him around so he could reach it with his left hand. "It opens out; pull it." They slid inside, still locked together.

The instant they were out of sight of the hall cameras, she put her back to the wall, hooked two fingers in the Velcro band of his monitor, and gave him a hard shove to the opposite wall, six feet away. As it tore off his wrist and he slammed into the tile, she dropped her pulse rate to seventy-two, secured the band to her own wrist, turned, and locked the door. When she turned back, he was braced heavily against the wall, his gun out and pointed at her face; she could feel the miniscule heat of the laser sight between her eyes.

"Oh, _good _idea," she said, ignoring the gun, looking straight into his eyes, her voice as low and menacing as a jungle cat's. "_Really _piss me off, why don't you." She felt the dot on her forehead waver a millimeter. It could have just been the pain from his rough handling and a blow to the head, but she knew better.

He was almost within reach from where she stood; by the time he decided to pull the trigger, it was no longer an option. He still held the gun, but her finger was behind the trigger, her thumb on the guard. She snatched at his left wrist, and he gave a cry of pain as she tore the communicator off his wrist and flung it away. Still fixing him with a predatory stare, she gripped the back of his head with her free hand, and she lifted the gun barrel, an inch at a time, towards his face. She let him grip it with both hands in a useless attempt to turn it from its course, let him sweat and strain and wear himself out, all without altering its progress in the slightest. When his wrist was bent inward at a painful angle and the weapon pointed at his eye, she said, completely at ease, "Looks a lot bigger than nine millimeters right now, I bet. What's your name?"

He was going cross eyed, staring at the gun. He twisted his shoulders and his hips without changing the relative positions of the gun and his head; they may as well have been clamped in a pair of bench vises.

"_Na-ame,_" she said in a singsong voice, clearly running out of patience. She pushed the barrel of the pistol an inch closer to his eye.

"Hale!"

"First or last? Never mind, it doesn't matter." She removed her fingers from the trigger and swiftly closed her hand over Hale's fingers; he could pull the trigger now, but the bullet still wasn't going anywhere but into his brain. "Here's what's going to happen, Hale: I'm going to ask you questions. If you refuse to answer or even hesitate, I'll hurt you; if you lie, I'll know, and I'll hurt you more. And since I'm in a hurry, I'll hurt you a _lot._" She gave his hand a squeeze; he cried out as the pressure broke his last three fingers. She broke the trigger finger as she removed the gun from his grip. "Hurts something awful, doesn't it?" her tone was conversational. "Wait till it starts to swell. Now you know I'm not bluffing." She squeezed the pistol; it deformed, then snapped, pieces flying in all directions. "And that I can do lots worse."

"I'm not alone," he ground out, holding his injured hand. "Somebody's going to come look -" She rammed his arm into his mouth and rapped his kneecap with her other hand; his scream was muffled by the cloth of his jacket. She released him and he slid to the floor, gripping his knee with his good hand.

"Lying to me already, and I haven't even asked you a question. You're not following anybody, Hale; you're just watching doors, you've already reported yourself in position, and they'll expect you to stay off com unless you have something to report. And this isn't going to do you any good," she said, holding his monitor down where he could see it. "I made sure it didn't send an alarm when I switched it; it's reading dead on normal now, and will even if I start disemboweling you. Speaking of which, you'd better keep your voice down to a low conversation level, or I'll hit your throat to keep you quiet and I'll get my answers from nods yes-or-no, which will make this session last a _very _long time – for _you._ So, if you can't keep from screaming, bite your arm or something." She looked at his pale, sweating face. "You're probably going to want to throw up soon, Hale; best get to the toilet now, while you can still crawl."

She watched him attempt a humping crawl towards the toilet on one functioning hand and knee, and felt a wave of self-loathing. _I've never treated anyone like this in my life … this isn't just a skillset subroutine. What's happening to me? _And her own voice answered, flat and cold._ You're doing what you need to do to get your sisters out of here safely. Don't waste your sympathy on this one. If you took his wallet, you might find pictures: girlfriends, family, kids maybe. Big deal. It doesn't matter who he is when he punches out and goes home; he's on the clock now, and when he's on the clock, he does anything they tell him to. There are old photos of Auschwitz guards patting little Jewish kids on the head as they nudge them towards the showers. So just remember what he's here to do. If you start feeling sorry for him, just imagine Roxanne huddled naked in a lightless cell, waiting for Hale to fetch her for her next "treatment." That should buck you up._

It did. By now, he was draped over the toilet and had emptied his stomach. "Uh. Huh. Oh, God." He coughed weakly. His suffering no longer touched her; the best thing she could do for him, she felt, was to break him quickly and ruthlessly, so she could leave him to seek medical attention.

"Break time's over, Hale." She grasped the back of his collar. "Time to go to work." She yanked him back off the toilet. Pulled off balance, he touched his damaged knee to the floor, hard; his hand flew to his mouth as he screamed, hanging from her hand by his collar. _Good. He's paying attention, focusing on me. Now, I need to convince him that there's more at stake for him than enduring a half hour or so of torture._

"Okay, listen up: that last tap was your final freebie. Up till now, I haven't done anything that can't be fixed with surgery and physical therapy. But from now on, you're looking at _permanent _damage. I'll try not to kill you, because I've got a message for you to deliver; but there really doesn't have to be much left of you for that. Best if you just tell me what I want to know. So, let's start: what brought you here today?"

"Routine surveillance -"

"Bullshit."

"No! Not you, we were following a senior IO guy, we do it all the time. But we lost him, and while we were trying to pick up his trail, somebody spotted a girl on the watch list."

"Which one?"

"Tall redhead."

_She does stand out in a crowd, doesn't she?_ "Then what?"

"We called in more agents and sent for the, the dedicated pickup team." Most of IO's genactive quarry, she knew, was individuals or couples; any known group of three or more was assigned its own takedown team, who received specialized training and equipment for the task.

"How far away are they?"

He hesitated, then saw her eyes narrow. "I don't _know_ where they are! They just told us to watch her, and they'd be here in an hour."

"How long ago was that?"

"Just before I got to the bathrooms." She consulted her internal clock: plus nine minutes, fifty-one to go. "We followed her until she joined up with the other females from Lynch's group, and an unknown, I guess that's you … We detailed agents to all the exits, and two to each of the other suspects-"

_Whap. _She pushed the side of his head into the tiled wall. "Shut up."

_Whap. _"Shut up."

_Whap. _"Shut."

_Whap._ "Up."

His ear was streaming blood; into the other, she said, "That girl is not a _suspect._ She's never been accused of a crime, never had a parking ticket, never cheated on a freaking _math test;_ she just had the misfortune to be born with something your _masters_ want. You and your ilk, on the other hand, are doing things that would cause IO's charter to be jerked _instantly_ and all its staffers down to the janitor to be put on trial – if the charter authority found out just how badly you've abused your mandate. Don't try my patience, meat; don't put on airs. You're jackals, and those kids are your prey." She ground his head into the wall, smearing the tiles with blood. "Do you have any _idea_ how hard it is, not to pop your skull like an egg?" She bared her teeth. "It's just _torture._"

_This guy must think I'm a total psycho, _she thought. Then: _good. The more he worries about what I might do to him, the less I'm likely to really have to do. Not that it matters, but I'm on a tight schedule here._

Hale's eyelids started to flutter; his eyes rolled up. She closed his chin with the heel of her hand, covered his mouth with her palm, and jammed two fingers up his nostrils until he started thrashing.

"Don't fade out on me again, Hale. I've got plenty of ways to bring you back, and none of them are pleasant. You said you've got agents at the exits; any in the lot?" By this time, she had established baselines on his pulse, skin temperature and conductivity patterns, eye motion, and several other deception indicators; now that she felt sure she would be able to spot a lie, she could ask important questions whose answers she couldn't confirm.

"Eight. Yeah, eight, in four cars. Cruising the lots."

"Anyone stationed in the garage?" A car circling through the garage would be suspicious; a foot patrol seemed likely.

She looked at him, and could tell from half a dozen indicators that he was about to lie.

"No, just somebody at the garage exit."

"Well, congratulations," she said, her voice flat. "That answer just won you six months in a wheelchair."

"No! Wait, no …" But he stuffed his arm into his mouth as he said it.

-0-

"Well, she's not back yet. Should we wait? Or go looking?"

"The show let out a little early, Sarah. I say we wait."

"Fine. Pass me one of those gift cards. I'm going for some Szechwan."

"I thought you weren't hungry," Roxanne said.

"That was two hours ago. Besides, I want to spend some of Anna's money too. Do you really think he can pay her a hundred thousand a year?"

"Sarah," Caitlin said, with an uncharacteristic show of weary patience, "we're living in a five bedroom beach house, in a neighborhood where you can't put up a _tool shed _for under three million, and I'm sure he didn't take out a mortgage. He flies around the world in a Gulfstream. I don't know where Mr. Lynch gets his money, but I bet he can afford to pay her anything he pleases." She handed Sarah the card. "You might ask how much is left on it before you use it." She and Roxy watched her wind her way through the crowd.

"She's out of slut mode," Roxy observed. "Not making eye contact with every other guy within ten feet of her. Or rubbing up against them as she slides past."

"No. Moving like a deer in the forest. All her admirers are worshipping from afar once again. She's in a good mood, finally."

"Wasn't the movie put her in it; she hardly paid attention."

"I know. It kind of makes me wonder what's in that bag they came back with." Caitlin continued to watch her Apache friend, drawing glances in the line at the China Palace. "She's a strange one. I'll bet she thinks when she turns off the temptress routine, guys suddenly stop noticing her, as if she turns invisible. How can she be so good at spotting interactions between people, and yet be so _clueless_ about the way she affects men?" She heard her sister snort, and caught the look on her face. "What?"

"I can almost feel the light bulb going off above my head. Sis, that doesn't happen to me, does it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, like Sarah: guys sort of … lining up on her. Like a magnet and iron filings."

"Don't be coy. I've gone with you to dance clubs, remember."

"Sis, of _course _guys pay attention to you at a club; it's part of what everybody's there for."

"Roxanne, you never wondered how you can get up on a crowded dance floor alone, and almost have it to yourself two songs later?"

"Well …"

"Sis, it's _embarrassing, _taking a guy up to dance when you're putting on your show, and then trying to keep his attention. When _your_ feet hit the floor, the exodus begins." She stood. "And the reason guys take a number for a dance when Eddie's not with you is _not_ because they like to dance; they just want the closest possible look at _your _moves. I'm going to that shop to look for her."

Roxy stood up. "I'm going too."

"No, stay here, in case she comes back. I don't think we should leave her alone with Sarah just now." She looked down the corridor. "Maybe I'm looking for trouble, but I don't want to spoil things; Anna seems to be having such a good time."

-0-

Anna scrubbed her hands at the bathroom sink, sending a thin scarlet stream down the drain. Her mission clock registered twenty-eight minutes. "There," she said cheerily, "that wasn't so bad, was it?" It was unclear whether she was addressing the image in the mirror or the form curled up in fetal position on the floor near her feet; neither answered. She crouched over the loose and leaking figure. "Hale, you still with me?"

The sound that came from him would have been appropriate to a newborn puppy.

"Here's the message, the reason you're still alive. Remember it, Hale; if Ivana finds out you didn't deliver it, what she'll do to you will make this last half hour seem like a massage." The roughening of his breathing was his only acknowledgment; tears leaked out from under his closed eyes. "Open season on genactives is _over._ We're not running to ground alone, waiting for you to dig us out of our holes like rabbits. We're in contact with one another, we're organizing, we're training, and we're about ready to take the fight to _you._ We're preparing ambush teams of our own; let's see what it does for storm trooper morale after a few teams go out for a pickup … and are never heard from again.

"That's the first part of the message, the part for the kidnappers like you. The second part is for the ones who give you your orders: you might want to remember what you want us for in the first place, what we can do. We're people who can punch holes in tank armor, or drown you in your bed, incinerate you in your shower. People who can _think _you dead through thirty feet of concrete or twenty inches of battleship plate, or make the wings come off your plane or just make it power dive to the ground. Absolutely _no place_ where we can find you is safe. Maybe you'd better start looking for hiding places yourselves." She caressed his buttocks, the only part of him she hadn't yet touched; a quiver was his only response. "Thanks, Hale. You really know how to show a girl a good time. I'll be thinking about you. Maybe I'll look you up next time I'm in town."

-0-

The doorway chime sounded, and Elise looked up to see the Statue of Liberty sail into her store. Not that this stunning girl actually _looked _like the Statue; you just had to tilt your head up so damn high to look her in the eyes. _Don't suppose she'd get much eye contact from men, even if she was a foot shorter. Those can't be real; Lord, how does she walk upright?_

"Can I help you?" _Need a pair of sunglasses, maybe? That's about all I've got that would fit you._

"I'm looking for someone." She lifted her hand to a point below her collarbone. "About this tall, slender build, short blonde hair. Blue eyes. _Really_ pretty, like a Barbie doll." She glanced around the store. "She said she'd be here if she didn't meet us at the food court."

_I know they've changed some since I was a kid, but the Barbies I played with looked a lot more like you than Annie, from the neck down at least. You've got four guys loitering in front of my doorway already, and you call Annie 'really pretty'. If you're for real, you need a guardian angel as bad as she does. _"I'm guessing you're one of Jack's step kids. I'm Elise, and Annie's a friend."

The girl got an odd expression. "Step kid? Well… all right. I'm Caitlin, or Kat. Have you seen her? I'm getting a little worried."

"You should be. Did you see anybody hanging around the front of the store?"

Kat's reaction to that question spoke volumes: no quizzical look, no unbelieving demands for clarification; just instant acceptance, and stark alarm. "No, but that doesn't mean anything. How much has she told you?"

"Enough to make me send her out the back without her bags, in case she needs to run. If she stayed in the building, she came out by way of the bathrooms near the food court."

"I just came from the food court. There's a back exit?"

_Insurance company's going to kill me. _"Isn't this guy going to get suspicious, if people keep walking in here and not walking back out?"

"I don't dare miss her, Elise; I've got to follow her trail. If she gets caught alone, I don't know _what_ will happen. Let me take her bags."

"You're not going to carry all this yourself."

"I'm stronger than I look. Let's see." She held out an arm.

Elise started hanging bags on her, and was amazed to see her straight-arm seventy pounds of clothing. "You work out a lot, Kat?"

"Too much, I think sometimes." They headed towards the back of the store, and Elise repeated her directions. "How long since she left?"

"Half an hour ago. If she didn't head for the hills, and she didn't come out into the court, maybe she's hiding in the ladies' room."


	4. Busting Out

Anna edged through the bathroom door, opening it as little as possible. Immediately, a figure rounded the corner to her right, tall and bulky; she tracked it for a few milliseconds before she recognized Caitlin. She quickly reached behind her, pulled the door shut, and stood with the handle gripped in her hand behind her back.

"Anna, what's going on?" She stared at the door as if trying to see through the blank steel surface.

"I'll explain as we go; the place is _crawling _with IO, we've got to get out of here. Where are the girls?"

"Food court." Caitlin started down the hall, with Anna following. "How many agents?"

"Two for each of us, seventeen covering all the exits, twelve in the parking areas, and lots more on the way, including our own specially-trained capture team,"

"Oh, shit."

The corner of Anna's mouth quirked; normally, Caitlin was a 'darn' and 'phooey' sort of girl, but when she was stressed or surprised, she used profanity as much as anyone else in the family, which everyone diplomatically overlooked.

"How did they find us? Where are the guys?"

"The boys are out skateboarding, luckily. Jack is elsewhere, and we'll have to make sure he doesn't go back home. But the thing Jack feared most was that they'd take us all together in a raid on the house, which they doubtless would have done if they'd followed us home. As for how they found us: simple bad luck, hon. They were here looking for someone else and recognized you, when you took those bags out to the car." As they emerged into the relatively open space at the end of the hall, she searched for the girls' shadows. She didn't speak again until they reached the girls' table, where Roxanne was watching Sarah finish her meal.

Caitlin started. "Guys, we're busted."

Sarah pulled the last swallow through her straw with a noisy slurp. "Just what I was about to tell you. There's a man watching us from the jeweler's across the aisle, and I'm certain his interest has nothing to do with my saucy walk." She looked up at Anna. "Any others?"

Without moving, Anna said, "Red starter jacket, your eleven o'clock, Caitlin; Roxanne, tan suit at the coffee kiosk; and, Sarah, see that couple four tables away? They're deep in conversation, but not with each other. They'll stay put when we move, report our movements, and hand us off to other agents positioned elsewhere in the mall. It's a lot harder to spot a tail if no one follows you for any distance. Thirty–odd agents sounds like a lot, but they're spread all through the building, to cover any direction we might move. This really isn't much of a team to surveill four individuals; most of these people are here to shadow one guy – whom they lost. Cheer up, things could be a lot worse."

"I know you want someone to ask, Anna: how?"

"These aren't Keepers or Black Razors; _those _are still twenty-six minutes out. As threats, these guys rate somewhere between security guards and undercover cops; they're not trained to engage Gens."

"But what do we _do?_" Roxy sounded frantic: thinking about Eddie, no doubt.

"The only thing we can do, sweetheart: we move suddenly and run like rabbits to the garage, mowing down anybody who gets in our way. We jump in the car, break contact with our pursuit and collect the boys, then try to make it to our new safe house unobserved. What we do _not _do is go back to the beach house – ever."

"Why? You said they spotted us _here_." Sara didn't seem doubtful, just curious.

"Because they've known the car we're driving for almost three hours. Plates won't tell them anything; the DMV records are bogus. But, see those?" She lifted her chin towards the black bubble of a security camera, mounted in the ceiling. "Those are everywhere: in the stores, parking lots, major streets and intersections. It's not like Big Brother, there's nobody watching them, mostly, but a lot of them record, usually for a day before the digital memory overwrites. And IO can use them to trace our path back to our house, in time."

"How much time?"

She shrugged. "Depends. How much manpower they put on it, how many gaps there are in the visual record, how much they have to cast about, picking up our trail again. It's just possible they're in the house now."

Sara's expression changed from cool to fierce. "We can't let the boys go back there." She stood. "Caitlin, we've got to reach them first."

"We will," Anna told her, "but we can't just go pelting out the door. We need to -"

Sarah's voiced stopped her. "When did _you _become our team leader?" A moment of uncomfortable silence followed, then Anna turned to Caitlin.

"You're right, Sarah. Jack made Caitlin the team leader, and for good reasons. I'm just an employee, and my only responsibility is the household. Clearly I've overstepped." Anna's voice was small as a child's, and as trusting. "Caitlin, what should we do?"

The tall redhead looked down at her with an unreadable expression, then, as the other two girls stared, she touched her thumb to her tongue and rubbed it against Anna's earlobe. "You've got these guys figured out – what they can and can't do, what they plan?"

"Yes. Solid information." Her voice was all business again.

"Do _you_ have a plan?"

"In outline only; we'll need to improvise a bit on the way, but there are already…preparations made."

"Fine then. Anna, get us out of here. You're in charge until I say different." Quietly, she added, "Let's go get our men."

"Once we start, the faster we move, the less opposition we'll face. We engage any agents we see on the way, and take them down, even if they don't move to intercept us; that way, we deal with them in small groups, instead of letting them follow us out the door. We don't want to fight thirty of them at once in the parking lot. We'll see two agents, minimum, on the way to the door; probably all four from the parking garage, since we'll be made by then. We'll take out at least one of the rolling units before we clear the lot; otherwise, we'll have to do at least two on the run."

She reached into her purse. "But first, in case we get separated: Roxanne, cell phone; to be used for one and only one call, so use it only in direst need. For now, we have to assume our phones and credit cards are compromised. So take these cards, three each, all different names; they're good for up to five thousand each, but use them _only once _and then destroy them – thoroughly. These are 'rabbit' resources, meant to keep us all mobile if we get separated; otherwise, I'll want them back later. Likewise this cash -" She counted bills swiftly. "About two thousand each, for bus fares, food, whatever."

"What do you think is going to _happen_?" Roxy said, wide-eyed, as she stuffed her items into her own purse.

"I think we're going to go through these guys like an axe through Cool Whip, but plans seldom survive contact with the adversary." She grinned at them as if none of them had a care in the world. "Sarah, can you tase somebody without fireworks? Just make 'em fall down twitching, without anyone seeing you do anything?"

"Subtlety's not my specialty, but I think so."

"You're on point, then. I'll unmask your targets as they come into range. Remember, we want to leave people staring at your _victims,_ not us. Roxanne, keep an eye on our rear, but try to be unobtrusive about it. If somebody moves in too close, nail his foot to the floor. Can you?"

"Just trip them?"

"Hard. A broken leg would be just about right."

"Gotcha."

"And me?" Caitlin said, tight as a coiled spring.

Anna smiled up at her. "Well, hon, _somebody's_ got to carry the bags."

"Huh?"

"You're a moving diversion. About half the people in this mall are going to turn and look at you as we move through the crowd; you can guess which half. Until we need you, your job is to look casual, hang on to those bags and look as harmless as possible. You'll likely get your turn at bat before we clear the lot." She took a final glance around. "All right, let's roll."

-0-

Sarah led off, then Anna, with Caitlin and Roxy side by side at the trail. "Kat, is it just me, or … is Anna coming on all Black Razor suddenly?"

"I see it too. I think it's a skillset file."

"A what?"

"That's what she calls the files in her memory that show her how to do new things, as if she's done them for years; she calls them her 'skillset' files. They sound almost like post-hypnotic suggestions. I've got a hunch somebody thought she'd need to be a commando someday."

"It's a little creepy, Kat."

Anna turned her head back. "Roxanne, sweetheart, that guy about ten feet back?" It was the man in the red starter jacket, pushing through the crowd to close with them. He raised his left hand to his mouth, and then abruptly threw his arms out in a vain attempt to catch himself as he hit the floor like a flyswatter. People clustered around his prone form, and the scene disappeared behind them.

"Sis, you spiked him like a volleyball. How'd you do that?"

"Ten gees on his feet, just before his forward foot became his rear one, then five to his head as he tipped over. Dancing gives you a good sense of when you're balanced and off–balance."

"Sarah, one o'clock, the grubby looking specimen in the watch cap and pea coat."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite. Zap him."

"He's not even looking our way."

"You don't _want _him looking our way. Do him _now_."

The man turned abruptly, bringing up a weapon from under his coat: some sort of rifle, with a folding stock and a _huge_ bore; he stared straight into Sarah's eyes, his own dead as a shark's. Anna _popped _in front of him, placing herself between the girl and the gun's muzzle. She twisted it from his grip effortlessly and brought a tiny fist up to his face. Blood sprayed as he spun backwards. Someone screamed, followed by several someones. Anna turned towards the door, ignoring the girls' shocked expressions. "Run."

They ran. They could see the sliding glass doors to the parking garage a hundred yards away, the entire distance filled with panicky pedestrians running for the nearest doorway. Anna no longer needed to spot agents; half a dozen armed men pushed towards them, making no attempt at concealment.

Caitlin said, "_Enough_ already. Get behind me, Rox. Where'd Anna go?" She loosened her grip on the shopping bags, preparing to let them fall to the floor.

Two incredibly loud shots rang out, then two more, then another, all in five or six seconds, filling the corridor with sound. Sarah dropped to the floor, looking around wildly; Caitlin crouched low, pushing her sister down behind her.

Anna stepped from a nearby doorway, pointing a huge, wicked-looking pistol towards the ceiling. "Pick the bags up, hon; I think we're clear." She safed the pistol. "Desert Eagle, fifty-caliber. What a cowboy. Just the way he was holding it, you know he never fired it in his life. I did him a favor, taking it away from him." She tossed the weapon aside. "You know, they must've figured we were unarmed, but it was still sloppy, breaking cover like that. These guys don't even know what Gens _are_." Two still forms were partly visible in nearby doorways; otherwise, they had the corridor to themselves.

Caitlin picked up the bags again. "Did you kill anybody?"

"Not if they get medical attention in time, but that's not going to happen while we're here. Let's go."

Anna took point, trotting towards the door, with the other three following more slowly; Roxanne's breathing was labored. "Kat … did you know … she could do that?"

"Which 'that' are we talking about, I'm losing count."

"You know … it isn't usually … hard to think … of her … as human. Stretching … my credibility … today."

They reached the doors. Anna halted them with a gesture, just short of the electric eye that would open them. Roxy bent over, hands on knees, gasping.

Anna looked at the girl with concern. "Roxanne, you really should cut down on the cigarettes. They're ruining your health."

"Oh, yeah … kill me someday … if I live long enough."

Anna bent close to her. "And on that note, the next time you infer that I'm not really human, you'd better be rolling your eyes and sampling my pasta primavera." Roxy's head jerked up, eyes wide, to see Anna's face an inch from her own. Anna placed a hand at the girl's neck and touched foreheads. "_Joke. _Jeez. Love you, sweetie. Take a breath." They both straightened.

Anna turned to the doors. "I don't know if that was the garage patrol back there; I'm going to poke my head in and look around. If I'm not back in five, get out of here; if you hear shots, come a'runnin." Just before the doors opened, she turned back to them and said, deadpan, "Oll bee bock." The sliding doors _whooshed _open, and she was gone.

"I think I'm more worried about her than I am the goons chasing us," said Roxy. "What's _happening _to her?"

"I think she's trying to come to grips with her true identity," answered Sarah. "The harder she tries to be just like everyone else, the more it points up her differences. The conflict is causing her to exhibit contradictory behaviors."

"Uh huh. That's deep, Sarah. You're taking Psych this semester, aren't you?"

Caitlin said slowly, "She's not that hard to figure out. She knows we're scared so bad we can't make spit, and the things she's doing are weirding us out; she's just trying to break the tension, reassure us that it's no big deal, just another day at the mall. It's not working because she's scared too."

"We talking about the same android? She acts like she's having _fun_. Unless they've got a _tank_ in the parking garage, I don't see how they could stop her."

"It's _us_ she's scared of, Sis. What we're going to think of her now, whether we'll look at her the same way." She looked back down the corridor; the two fallen agents were gone, pulled inside the stores, apparently. From one of the doorways, a head eased into view, and then withdrew. "I don't think we can stay here much longer. How long has she been gone?"

Anna reappeared at the glass doors and beckoned. They entered the garage, a large, low-ceilinged concrete structure which stretched away on either side, nearly filled with vehicles. Light came from sodium bulbs overhead, as well as late afternoon sunlight from the wide, low openings at either end; nevertheless, the space seemed dark and oppressive.

"It seems clear, but they could be lying really low, if they're getting smarter. Hope they haven't disabled the car." She looked from Sarah to Roxy, as they set off towards the van. "Be ready. Caitlin, how are you doing?"

"I'm getting tired of being a pack mule, Anna."

"That ends at the car, hon. After that, you're our ace in the hole."

"Someday, we're going to laugh about me running through a gun battle with an armload of your shopping bags."

"I sincerely hope so. Uh oh, picking up radio chatter; we're not alone in here. Look sharp, here's the car."

Caitlin still had the keys; she touched the key fob button, the doors unlocked, and Anna shouted, "Sarah! Next row over - two men."

Lightning struck inside the building, momentarily flooding the structure with light; weapons clattered to the concrete, and the attackers sprawled, their clothes smoldering as they lay twitching.

Caitlin dropped the bags at the rear of the car and opened the hatch; Roxanne started tossing them into the back with the others. "Um, Sarah, what just happened there? That looked like rather more than a taser shot."

"Rather." Her hair floated around her head in sinuous strands, making her look as if she were under water. "I got a bit … wound up. It's the second time someone's pointed a gun at me in the last ten minutes."

"Right." She looked at Anna. "Where's the next crisis?"

"Probably at the exit downstairs. There's only one way in and out of here, and it's easily blocked, so that's where the rolling units will be. Your turn at bat, hon. Clear the entrance, and we'll pick you up there."

"Okay. Just disable the cars?"

"If you can, that'll be fine; otherwise, don't be squeamish."

Caitlin tossed the keys to Sarah, but the girl's hand closed on air. Anna stood between them, keys in hand. "I'll take these, for now. We may need some fancy driving, and I'm a lot better at it."

"Since when?" Sarah's voice held, not challenge, but exasperation: _what new surprise do you have for us; what secret are you about to reveal?_

Anna blinked at her. "Since about five seconds ago."

-0-

Caitlin trotted down the aisle, vaulted through the opening, and dropped out of sight. Roxy was already in the second of the minivan's three rows of seating; Sarah took the shotgun seat. Anna settled into the driver's position, adjusting the seat, shoulder harness, steering wheel, and mirrors. "Sarah, there's a scrunchie in the glove box for your hair, if you want it. Sweetie, take the back seat; you sit with Eddie when we pick him up. Okay, everybody buckle up."

"Anna," Roxanne said, "We just faced down a football team armed with machine guns. You _can't _be worried about a ticket."

"Suit yourself." She backed out and sent the car down the decline leading to the garage's first turn. As the car rounded the bend, a commotion began in the lot outside the garage: a flurry of gunshots sounded, then a car alarm began whooping. The racket ended suddenly with a sound like a head-on crash, but without the usual initial squeal of brakes. The small arms fire dwindled away. They started the final decline to ground level; the bright rectangle of the exit loomed ahead. Caitlin leaned into the doorway and waved, and they slowed at the entrance to pick her up. The brief pause gave the others a moment to regard a black Suburban parked next to the entrance, with an expensive-looking convertible sticking out of its top like a sail.

"Parked in a handicap spot with no sticker." Caitlin slid in the side door and into the second seat. "I _hate _it when they do that." She looked at her open denim jacket, which was peppered with holes in front. "Drat. Should've buttoned this up."

Anna rolled the car down the aisle, scanning the lot for danger. "Where are the agents?"

"Bugged out when they saw me pick up another car."

"So they _are _getting smarter. Too bad. Any sign of the other mobile units?"

"No sign. Do you think they're waiting for us at the exit?"

They turned onto the mall exit. Ahead, autos were lined up at the light that let traffic out onto the street. "No; too many exits. They're in the lot nearby, waiting for someone to report our position." She glanced in the rear view. "They're coming. Here we go."

Anna gunned the engine and wrenched the wheel to the right; the van bounced over the curb and onto the grassy strip that separated the driveway and the parking lot. Saplings went down in front of them as they hurtled towards the street past the line of waiting cars. Another teeth-jarring bump and they were in the intersection, cars coming at them from all directions. Anna turned the wheel hard left, and the back end slid around as they entered the traffic flow. Behind them, tires squealed. "Roxanne," she said amiably, "are you buckled up yet?"

A rustle and a click were her answer.

"Not my first choice for a getaway vehicle," she said, passing cars and gathering speed as she wove from lane to lane. "But it does have fairly high ground clearance, and easy egress; we'll need that."

Sarah was gripping the grab bar with both hands. "We almost got _killed_ back there!"

"Oh, pooh. You mean that driver hitting his brakes? I was already _past_ him. Inadequate reflexes." Another busy intersection came up; she looked, pumped the brakes in a brief hard application, and whizzed through against the light, with oncoming cars seemingly an arm's length away. The blare of horns chased them down the street. "Sharp right coming up." She reached for the radio, turning up the volume; Sara Maclaclan's voice filled the car. "I _love _this song."

The intersection and traffic lanes were packed with vehicles, impassable. The car took to the curb again, and a newspaper box in front of them leaped into the intersection as they cut the corner and regained the street. They accelerated again, weaving through traffic, several times swinging into the oncoming lanes and back again scarcely a heartbeat from a head-on.

"Anna, why are you _driving _like this? Oh Gawd, don't _do _that; you turn around to look at me again, I'm gonna pee my pants."

"Turn around, look behind us." All three girls looked; a black Suburban was so close behind that it filled the rear window briefly as its driver jinked wildly from side to side. "He's been right behind us since the first intersection."

"So, he's as good a driver as you?" Sarah couldn't help asking.

"Hardly. Take a closer look." The other vehicle looked much worse for wear: both side mirrors were broken off, the driver's mirror flopping at the end of its cable; the right fender was crumpled; and the vehicle's flanks were furrowed and missing paint. The Suburban was maneuvering much more erratically, steering later and harder. "He's got nerve. And fast reflexes, just good enough to follow me blindly through the holes I'm finding before they close up tight. If we could put even fifty feet between us, I'd lose him, but Bessie here just doesn't have the horses." The chase vehicle's front seat passenger lowered the window and stuck a pistol out, steadying his hand on the ruined mirror mount. Anna stamped on the brakes and jinked left; the Suburban's driver instantly did the same, spoiling his partner's aim and nearly running his car head-on into a delivery truck. "_That _one's been watching too many cop movies."

Roxy caught Anna's eye when she glanced in the rear view mirror. "Anna? If you can hold the car straight for a few seconds, I think I can take the car out."

"Really?"

"But I've got to pop the belt and then kneel in the seat, and we've _got _to stop bouncing around like this; straight line only."

"There's a shopping complex coming up; I'll go through the lot. Don't unbuckle till I say." At the next light, she swung the car hard left without slowing; tires screeched behind them. At once, they were in a vast expanse of blacktop in front of a big-box store. "Now."

Instantly, Roxanne was unbuckled and turned around, looking out the back window. The Suburban rushed up on them as their course straightened, apparently intending to ram. The girl stared intently at the vehicle, then pressed her forefinger down on the back of the seat, as if pushing a button.

A god's hammer struck the right front corner of the Suburban, smashing it nearly flat into the ground; sparks fountained as the rest of the car lifted, pivoted around the pinned and wrecked corner, and ripped free, now rolling backwards on three wheels towards the van. It scraped to a stop behind them.

Roxanne turned around and buckled up as the van accelerated towards the street. She caught Anna's eye in the rear view, lifted her finger like the barrel of a pistol, and blew on the tip. Anna intoned, "The Force is _strong _in this one. Does that little trick have a name?"

"I call it a 'gravity mine.' Does this mean you can stop sneering in the face of Death while you're driving?"

The car ran through a yellow light just as it turned red. "I'll try to show more respect for your bladder, but we're still in a desperate hurry; we have to get to the boys ahead of the Keepers, and they're due here _now_."

"Speaking of which, Anna: didn't you say that these people had orders to _watch_ us until the Keepers got here? They weren't even trying to apprehend us; they were out for blood." Sarah's voice carried only the slightest tremor to belie her detached tone. "What do you suppose could have stirred them up like that?"

When Caitlin and Anna had appeared in the food court from the direction of the bathrooms, someone would have gone looking for Hale. "I'd rather not suppose; it's not important right now."

Caitlin said, "Where are the _police_? We should have police all_ over_ us by now."

"IO doesn't like jurisdictional disputes. Or publicity, or official witnesses. I'm sure they started pulling local law enforcement out of the area just as soon as you were identified."

"They ran the police out of their _own town_? What kind of story would they tell them?"

"The story wouldn't matter," she said, weaving through traffic at a pace that would have frightened the girls an hour before, but now seemed unhurried, "as long as it came from high enough up. IO has something on a _lot_ of people." She slowed the car, and turned into a parking lot. "Here we are. The half pipe is just down that path. I'll take Sarah with me. Caitlin, get behind the wheel; you two wait for us." They exited the car, and took to the tree-lined asphalt path.

"Is this supposed to be a chance for us to have a little talk?" Sarah seemed suspicious and defensive.

"Do you have a subject in mind?" Anna increased their pace; Sarah, with her longer strides, kept up easily.

"The mall, when I almost got us shot?"

"Oh. Buck fever; could happen to anyone. You did fine, the next chance you got." She scanned their surroundings continuously; she didn't expect trouble, but trouble often came when you didn't expect it.

"How about the way I've been questioning your orders?"

"We're not soldiers, Sarah."

"Well, then, why did you detail me to come along?"

"Pragmatism. We're in a hurry; we need to stay ahead of our pursuit. Eddie will come with me and get the story later; but Bobby's stubborn, like his dad. He'll want to ask questions and decide the best course of action before he moves a foot, and we don't have that kind of time."

"Again - why me?"

"Anna glanced at her. "Don't be obtuse, Sarah. At the first scent of trouble, he'll want to go to you. Just catch his eye, and then turn back to the car; he'll _run _to catch up."

"I see." A few feet further, she said, "You don't approve of the way I treat him either, do you?"

"None of my business, Sarah; I just want to see you both happy. If you can't make each _other _happy, well, maybe it's just not in the cards."

"Very generous of you." Another few steps in silence. "How come _I_ don't have a pet name?"

"What?"

"Caitlin is 'hon'; Roxanne is 'sweetheart' or just 'sweetie'; Bobby is 'baby'. Don't Eddie and I deserve little terms of endearment?"

"Eddie wants me to call him 'Grunge,' like Roxanne does; I can't bring myself to do it. As for you, I _do_ have a name for you … I just don't say it out loud."

She snorted. "I'll bet."

"No, really. I'll trot it out someday … when I think you're ready to hear it."

Sarah looked as if she were about to say something, then looked away.

The path opened up into a large grassy space surrounding a concrete half pipe. Skateboarders rolled up one side, then the other, like liquid sloshing in a bowl.

"Hey. What are you guys doing here?" Bobby emerged from a restroom, tucking his board under one arm as he approached.

Anna traded a look with Sarah. "IO's on our tail; we've got to get out of here. Where's Eddie?" Sarah turned, looked at Bobby over her shoulder, and trotted back towards the car. The boy's answer was flung back over his shoulder as he pursued. "Grinding, back of the pipe." He disappeared down the path.


	5. Ambush

Eddie started to pick himself up off the ground, brushing dirt from his knees and palms. "Thought I had it that time." He froze, still on one knee, as a bodacious young goddess rolled by, wearing blades and about two square feet of black Spandex. Oblivious to him, she stopped and bent over until her chin almost touched her knee, fussing with her laces. He felt a tap on the shoulder.

Eddie's eyes were glued to the girl's booty. "No sudden moves, dude, you'll scare the game away."

"Roxanne's here." A woman's voice.

"_Where?_" His head whipped around, and he saw a woman he didn't recognize; then he did one of those mental flips that turn a picture of a vase into a pair of faces, or a wireframe cube inside out, and the stranger became Anna, wearing … makeup, and a party dress, and sandals? "What…"

"Back in the car. IO agents chased us out of the mall." She extended a hand to him. He did a double take: her knuckles were smeared with blood. "Come vit me, iff you vant to liff."

The van looked like it had been in a fender-bender, grillwork broken out and the left headlight hanging crooked. The rest of the tribe was already inside: Kat driving and Sarah riding shotgun, as usual; Rox in back, waiting for him; and Bobby, alone in the center seat, wearing the irritated expression he got about half the time he was within arm's length of She Who Is Beyond Men. Eddie squeezed into the back, and put his arm around Rox's waist. He put his lips to her ear. "What's going on?"

Slowly and precisely, she said, "We have had the most _incredible _day. We spent ten thousand dollars on clothes, and we saw the new Ethan Stills movie. Then we got in a running battle with three dozen IO agents, and watched Anna turn into some kind of _uber-_commando and blow away half a dozen men. We just got chased down the street through rush-hour traffic at ninety miles an hour. "

"Ethan Stills, really?"

"Funny."

Caitlin put the car in gear as Anna got in next to Bobby and slid the door shut. "What next?"

"Safe house, unless we pick up a tail."

"Anything on the radio?" The van reached the park entrance and stopped.

"No, but Keepers use much more secure com; I'd need some serious luck to pick it up." The car sat at the intersection, idling. Ten seconds passed, with no one saying _anything_. A fire truck hooted and wailed in the distance; a smoke plume rose into the sky, somewhere towards the beach. The girls all stared at it.

Eddie couldn't stand it any more. "What are we waiting for?"

Kat turned her eyes forward. "Right or left, Anna?"

"Take Miramar to Kearny Villa Road near I-15; we're headed for Escondido."

"Hey," he said. "Aren't we stopping at the beach house for _anything_?"

Anna replied, "The beach house isn't _there_ anymore, Eddie."

"Huh?" He looked again at the rising column of smoke. "No way…"

"Way. By now, IO would either be in the house or on the way; we were never going back there. Would you want Ivana's people pawing through all your personal items? They wouldn't find any clues to our whereabouts, but what they _would _find … Eddie, if you've got a note from a classmate in one of your schoolbooks, IO might 'interview' them with a cattle prod. If they find a guitar in Bobby's room, they won't rest until they've found everyone who's ever sold him a pick. Mel and the Sirens would disappear."

In front of him, he saw Bobby's neck muscles jump. "Bro, there can't be a thing in that house worth Melanie's life."

"Naw, but there's some reading material I'm sorely gonna miss."

"Good riddance," Rox said, leaning in closer. "I never understood why you needed all those Lingerie Specials."

_When you've got me_, he practically heard her say. "I was talking about my copy of _Dynamo, _Issue Number One. My comics collection was probably worth more than this car." He sighed inwardly. _Starting over… yet again._

"Nice to hear you've been investing your money, instead of wasting it," Sarah noted sourly. "Everything my grandparents gave me is ashes, now."

Anna said carefully, "Sarah, your grandparents-"

"No. Better ashes than in _their_ hands."

The car turned onto Miramar, headed east. To their left lay occasional stands of trees and orderly subdivisions; to their right, a vast expanse of barren hills rose out of sight, the Miramar Military Preserve. Caitlin said, "This is eerie; I haven't seen a police car since we left the mall. Anna, where's Mister Lynch?"

"Not far away, actually, but he's out of reach for now. We'll get to the safe house, and then I'll contact him. Uh oh." Anna cocked her head, the way a dog does sometimes.

"Kearny Villa Road is coming up," Kat said tensely.

"Change of plan; go on past to Pomerado." They crossed the interstate, heading into hillier country. "I'm getting a coded transmission. I can't decipher it, but the pattern indicates IO paramilitary."

"Keepers."

"Most likely."

Sarah flipped down the visor and looked at Anna through the cosmetic mirror. "I thought you said you weren't likely to catch their radio chatter."

"That's right, I did."

"Well?"

Anna was turning her head back and forth, like she was looking for signs of pursuit. "Eddie, put that photographic memory to use. Keep a lookout for large passenger vehicles, any type, which show up behind us – especially if we've already passed them. Sarah, all IO tactical teams use tight-beam communications; if you _do_ intercept a transmission, it means you're between the sender and receiver. Since I caught several seconds of it while we're doing forty, they must be behind – and ahead."

"They're _ahead of us?_ Why didn't we get on the interstate?"

"Because limited-access roads are the _last_ place you want to go to escape pursuit. Our chances of breaking contact are much better this way, even if we have to engage them first."

"'Engage.' Meaning 'fight.'"

"Yes, but I expect they'll let us by, and then pursue until we reach a more favorable location for a takedown. Hon, three and six-tenths miles up, there's a road on the right, leading up into the hills; take it."

Kat said, "Is this still part of the plan?"

"Yes. Contingency plan, but yes."

He leaned close to Rox. "When did Anna start giving orders to Kat? Did the L-man give her special instructions, or what?"

"Kat put her in charge. She told Anna to get us out."

"Uh huh. You can bounce people off ceilings, Kat knocks holes in concrete walls with her pinkie and Sarah can strike people with lightning bolts, like freakin Zeus … and you let our housekeeper lead the charge."

"Grunge, you weren't there. They were coming out of the _walls _at us, but she moved faster than anybody I've ever seen, even Kat. She knocked two big guys down like bowling pins, and then _shot _five more in the time it takes to say it, just to clear a path for us. She drove this heap like a stunt driver, _blasting_ down sidewalks at sixty miles an hour. My heart _still _hasn't settled down. But we wouldn't have got out of there without her, I think."

Bobby, sitting next to Anna, said, "So there's more to you than meets the eye? Old news. You've been surprising us since we met you."

Anna spoke without turning her head. "It was a team effort in a tight spot, sweetie, and I think we're _all_ doing some amazing things. 'Gravity mines.' Heh."

Eddie looked behind them. A black Suburban that had been parked in a convenience store lot half a mile back was now three cars behind them; an identical vehicle had come off the interstate half a block behind them, and was holding that position. "Guys, we've got a couple tails."

"Black Suburbans?" Kat asked.

"Roger that. Close, but not really."

"There's another parked on the shoulder opposite, facing us, about a block up; see it?"

"Yeah. It's like rolling with the President."

"Hon, that road's coming up. Turn in sharp, like you just spotted it and decided to take it."

Kat actually started to roll past, then stamped on the brakes and wrenched the wheel to the right. The car picked up speed as they straightened out on the new road, two narrow lanes of blacktop. "How was that?"

"Perfect; looked like a panic move to me."

A double gate crossed the road, secured by a chain and lock. "Go right through it, hon."

"We'll demolish the front end." Kat's fingers were starting to bend the wheel, he saw.

"Doesn't matter. Floor it."

The two halves of the gate sprang aside as the van struck them, then rebounded in time to smack the rear quarters as they passed through. Eddie looked back. "We got all three behind us now."

The road climbed steadily, curved right, and then left, following a rising saddle between two hills. Off to the right, a wide gravel road split off and immediately began to descend.

"Anna, do you know these roads? This looks like a bad time to get lost."

"Don't worry, hon. Leave the unpaved roads alone, but take the next blacktop lane that breaks right."

Bobby said, "Hard to believe we're only a mile from the interstate; this is a wilderness. What _is_ this place?"

"It's government land, a mixture of federal, state, and local ownership. Off-roaders use it by day, and no one cares; but they leave towards sundown. There's some housing not far away, but hard to reach and mostly unoccupied; more on that later."

He looked back. "They're not closing the gap." In fact, they were falling back some, keeping close together in single file.

"They've seen what Roxanne can do if they get too close. Besides, we're headed for a perfect ambush spot, better than the expressway. This access road dead ends in about six miles at some maintenance buildings on the ridge top. The only fork leads down into a valley that takes you back towards Miramar and then peters out. This area's almost totally deserted."

"And _that's _where we're headed? Straight into an _ambush? _Why?"

"Because, Sarah, ambushes can work two ways." She leaned forward and patted the girl's stiff shoulder. "Relax, kids. Jack and I have been planning for this day for a long time, and things are going a _lot_ better than they might be. Everything will be just fine."

The car dropped a tire into a pothole and bounced out, tossing Rox and him almost to the ceiling; the road was paved, but badly maintained, and the ride was _lots_ springier in the last seat. "Youch. Hey, Gravity Girl, something you can do about this?"

"I'm afraid to. I don't have a _clue _what we're doing; maybe getting bounced off the ceiling is part of Anna's Secret Plan."

"Hardly, sweetie. Smooth the ride out if you can; in fact, if I'd known you could, I'd have had you push Bessie down on her springs earlier, when we were getting chased – would have improved our cornering performance."

"No _way _could I hold my concentration, when _you_ were driving; I barely held on to my lunch." But the van squatted down, and the next pothole hardly bounced the back at all.

"We're here," Kat said, and wrenched the wheel to the right; the car descended steeply down the new road.

"Curtain's going up." The cheery tone disappeared from Anna's voice. "Those cars back there are just beaters, driving the game towards the hunter – something air-mobile that can mount longer-range weapons, probably a helicopter. They'll disable the car, and then gas us; IO's got some very effective knockout gases. The team in the cars will effect a capture with conventional restraints and neural dampening devices, to keep you from using your powers; you remember the collars, I suppose. Then off to IO for torture and brainwashing, I mean training and re-education."

"Gawd. Anna, what are we gonna _do_?"

"Beat them to the draw." The road dropped between two ridges; they were plunged into twilight as the sun disappeared behind the western ridge. Kat turned on the headlights. "Eddie, those cars are going to suddenly speed up, slow down, or stop, depending on how much trust they have in the copter crew. When they do, sing out. Caitlin, that's your signal to stop the car _quick._ But be ready to take off right away."

He glued his eyes to the road behind them. The three tails paused briefly at the intersection, glittering in the last rays of the sun, then turned to follow them down. As they dipped into shadow, he lost sight of them for a moment, until his eyes adjusted. Then, he realized that the lead car had opened a gap between itself and the other two, which were now closing back up with sudden acceleration. "They're coming!"

Kat stamped on the brake._ Hope she didn't put her foot all the way through the floor, _he thought incongruously. The van's nose dipped. The ABS kept the tires from screeching, but the car skidded slightly to the right on some gravel.

Eddie would be recounting the next few seconds of his life to his house mates many times in the coming week. Everyone in the car was a witness, but things happened so fast that only his memory and eye for detail could capture it all.

Anna grasped the handle of the van's sliding door and, in an impossible show of strength, rowed it back against the car's deceleration to lock in full open position. Still gripping the handle, she used the car's deceleration to swing her out the opening to the gravel shoulder. Before the car came to a stop, the roar of rotor blades crashed over them.

With her eyes locked on the sky above, and rotor wash whipping her dress up around her thighs, she dropped to one knee and threw the other behind her, making a tripod mount of her legs. She extended her right hand up towards the helicopter, which was so nearly right overhead that they couldn't see it from inside the car. She raised her palm, as if signaling it to stop. The skin at her wrist split bloodlessly, and _something_ poked out like a compound fracture; but it wasn't bone, it was something that shouldn't be there at all. It looked like a gun barrel, and a honking big one.

THOOM.

The flash was impressive enough, bathing them all in a brief campfire glow; but, even with the barrel pointed mostly upward, the sound slapped at him and made his ears ring. Dust rose up all around her, and gravel on the shoulder skittered downhill. He noted how her shoulder rolled to keep her forearm and elbow traveling in a straight line as the recoil rocked it back. Then she was turning, still on one knee, looking back down their trail.

THOOM.

This time the car rocked slightly as the projectile headed downrange, traveling down half the length of their vehicle from three feet away. Rox was squeezing him in half, but he turned to look out the back window.

The lead car was coasting to a stop with its front end ablaze; its hood was twenty feet in the air, fluttering back down to earth. The wreck jumped forward as the second car goosed it. The last vehicle swerved sharply, putting its nose into the side of the hill, stopping broadside to them.

THOOM.

The last car jumped; the hood buckled, and smoke started pouring from under the engine compartment. The driver of the middle car threw it into reverse, scraping the last vehicle as it passed, and accelerated away, still backing.

THOOM. THOOM.

The last rolling Suburban spun neatly and, now facing away from them, began to run in earnest. It seemed like Anna's last two shots had missed, and they were getting away. Then a shell dropped right behind the car, cratering the road and spraying burning asphalt; the second blew the fenders off and stopped the car in an invisible head-on.

Anna popped up. "Let's get out of here. Kill the lights." Behind them, the chopper dropped straight to the ground like an elevator car, pirouetting, its tail rotor gone. It hit heavily enough to snap the landing gear and the blades and send them flying off.

Kat took off as soon as Anna had one foot in the car. A six-foot section of blade went sailing by, about twenty feet away. Their little sniper sat down without shutting the door. Just as well; a weird chemical stink followed her in, quickly dissipating through the big opening. Her hand straightened back out, leaving no clue to what was underneath.

"Drat." She was looking down at her lap. "Propellant residue, yech. I'll _never_ get this dress clean. I suppose the makeup's shot, too. Sarah, can you reach me that box of wet wipes in the compartment under your seat?" She reached sideways and slid the door shut. "Sarah?"

"That was amazing," said Bobby.

"Humph. Lucky there weren't any more; five rounds is all I carry, and the feed mechanism is Rube Goldberg. A pretty impractical feature, really, but it was probably one of those ideas you get in your head and can't be talked out of."

Rox loosened her death grip on him, now that the shooting was over, but he didn't feel any less breathless. "Un-frickin-believable. The Terminator's been changing my sheets."

"And scrubbing some annoying stains out of them, too." As Rox turned to him with wide eyes, she added, "Chocolate. Cheese. Jelly. It wouldn't kill you to take a shower every night at bedtime, either. Sarah, isn't it there?"

The plastic box finally appeared over Sarah's shoulder. Without looking back, she said, "I can't believe you just … blew them away like that."

"Oh, pooh," she replied, as she wiped at her face. "A good pilot can bring a helicopter down safe from low altitude without a tail rotor; my other three hits were right in the engine blocks. That first car probably got a spray of shrapnel in the passenger cabin, but they'd have been suicidal not to come after us in body armor. The boys at the mall got it worse."

He took a last look back at the cars, burning in the dark. "There's nobody getting out, Anna."

"Well, why would they? We took them completely by surprise. We've broken contact, and they can't pursue. With the helicopter down, their own long-range weapon is gone, as well as their line-of-sight relay out of these hills. That's the disadvantage of tightbeam com. They can't even report what happened. Smartest thing to do is lie low until we're gone. Should they jump out to potshot us with small arms and invite a response with God knows what?"

"God knows, maybe, but none of _us _do," Kat said, without turning her head. "Do you have any other surprises?"

"Oh, hon, I'm _full_ of surprises. Here's another." She reached down towards the floor in front of her. The whole tribe's reaction was hilarious: it reminded him of that scene in _Ghostbusters _when they're all riding in an elevator and one of the "unlicensed nuclear accelerators" in their backpacks gives a weird rumble, like it's about to explode, and the others move away – all of two feet. He wanted to laugh, but he caught himself doing it, too.

She came up with her little purse in her hands, and opened it. "Bet you didn't know I always carry a needle and thread. Hold still, Sarah." Anna threaded the needle in one smooth, easy motion, and leaned forward. "Your shoulder seam is coming apart." She pinched and folded the cloth with the fingers of one hand, and ran ten neat stitches in as many seconds. "Better. I _know _you didn't leave the house like that."

Sarah had frozen at Anna's touch, as if she thought she might stick her; now, her voice was as stiff as her posture as she said, "It probably opened up while I was eating floor tile in the mall, with bullets wheeting over my head."

"If any bullets went over your head in the mall, dear, they were mine, so you were safe." Anna put her sewing kit back in her purse. He doubted that anybody else had caught the amazing thing she'd done, threading the needle without wetting or twisting or anything; just pulling it out of the kit and poking it right through the eye, as easy as sticking her finger in a pickle jar.

"You gunned them down without any warning."

The temperature drop inside the car had nothing to do with the deepening darkness outside.

Bobby leaned forward. "Listen-"

"These people weren't going to be frightened off by a warning shot, Sarah. Their copter would have just backed off and engaged from a longer range, or called in something harder to knock down than a Kiowa with a machine gun." Anna's voice had changed; suddenly it was flat and hard, the voice of somebody you _seriously_ don't want to mess with. He could feel the hairs rising on his neck. "Perhaps two years of soft living has made you forget the nature of our adversary. Don't you remember what it was like, after you started to manifest and the kid gloves came off? Before Jack helped you escape?" The words came out sounding like rocks grinding together. "These monsters kidnap people, kids even, and kill anyone who gets in their way. They subject their victims to torture and brainwashing – all for the greater good, of course. But that doesn't make the screams any less horrifying." Her voice rose. "They're _slavers._ They came to steal _my kids_; and they're very lucky I was able to find a surgical means of eliminating them as a threat, otherwise I would have killed. Every. One of them."

It was quiet in the car for about three breaths; then Kat settled things, as usual. "You did the right thing, Anna. You saved us all. Thank you." You could hear the _pop_ as the tension broke and everyone loosened up a little - except for Judge Rainmaker, of course. "And, Anna? I'll be glad to go shopping with you, any time."

The ridge to their right started sinking as they continued down the road; after a mile, it was gone. The shoulder fell away down a middling steep slope. He could see rows of moving headlights down there, probably a highway, a couple of miles distant. Between them and the road, the landscape was entirely dark, except for a dimly lit road halfway down the hill.

"Hon, that dirt track crossing the road up ahead? Turn right, but don't start down yet; stop a moment." With the car's nose pointed down the rutted dirt road, he revised his estimate: the down slope wasn't middling steep; it was more like the top of a ski jump. "Okay. That's a subdivision down there, and one of those houses is our first stop. Not our safe house, just a way station of sorts where we can change cars and pick up a few things. This isn't really a road, it's just a trail packed down by four-wheelers. We need to get Bessie down there so we can get it under cover. Roxanne, can you keep us light so we don't bog down or turn into a toboggan? Also, I'd rather not leave any sign where we leave the road."

"We can't turn on the headlights, I suppose."

"No. Sorry."

"No problemo, as long as all we need is a little negative G if we drop a wheel, or start to slide."

"Sooner the better, then."

As it turned out, the ride down was the least eventful part of the night; with Rox's help, the mom-van almost floated off the road and eased right down the hill with hardly a bump or lurch. Instead of looking out the windows, he watched Rox at work. She'd given up trying to explain to him what screwing with gravity felt like, but he knew darkness made it harder. He studied her facial expressions, some of them pretty odd, wondering what was going on behind those half-closed violet eyes. He supposed somebody looking at _him_ looking at _her _would think it was romantic. When the car reached the bottom of the slope, her face relaxed and they both looked out the windows.

A two lane road stretched out on either side of them; to the left, unlighted, it disappeared into the darkness beyond the headlights, headed towards that highway he'd spotted. To the right was a Twilight Zone version of a residential cul-de-sac: the streetlights were electric replicas of old fashioned gaslights, and shed just enough light to mark the ends of the driveways. A dozen houses lined the upslope side of the road. All but three of them were dark, their front yards just dirt and weeds, and there wasn't a car parked on the street anywhere. The roadway and sidewalks showed no signs of wear.

"Anna," Bobby said, "what is this place? Where is everybody?"

"It's creepy," Kat said. "All we need is some fog, and it'd be perfect."

"Head for the third house down, the first one lit up. Homeowners have to park in their garages," Anna said. "Restrictive covenants here, too. Not that it would matter. There are twelve houses in this development, and all but two of them are vacant – a year after completion. The builder can't sell them; the neighborhood's too loud."

"That's crazy. I've been in cemeteries noisier than this." He looked over the street and sidewalk. There wasn't so much as an old paper cup in the gutter or a chalk mark on the concrete.

"You're right; this place _is _quiet – except when it's not."

They reached the house that Anna had pointed out. Like all the other houses he could see, it was huge, with a driveway that curved around to a pair of garage doors at the side of the house facing away from the other occupied houses. The front yard was sodded, though, like the other two lit-up places. A card reader stood on the pole at the end of the driveway, the only one he could see. Kat turned in and stopped at the pole. "Now what?"

"Use any of the cards I gave you, magnetic stripe down and left. Then insert it again, down and right."

She did, and the door farthest from the street rolled up, completely silent; no light came on inside the garage, but Kat flipped on the van's headlights once they were pointed at the door, and they lit up the space as they rolled in, throwing harsh shadows. As she nosed the car in, she glanced towards the garage bay that was still hidden behind the closed door. She stamped on the brakes. "Oh my god, they're here." A vehicle was parked in the adjacent bay, big, black, and boxy.

He said quickly, "It's not like the others. I don't know what it is, but it's not a Suburban."

"Oh, sorry," said Anna. "Don't worry about the car; it belongs here. It's ours."

Everybody let out a breath. Kat brought the van the rest of the way in; the door rolled down behind them, and lights came on.

"Anna, you tweaked the lights and the door?"

"Among other things. I come here three or four nights a month. No point in advertising."

They all piled out. The girls headed for the door into the house, but Anna hung back, seeing him and Bobby look at the vehicle in the space next to the van. "That is _the _most butt-ugly Benz I have _ever _seen," Bobby said. It was an unornamented black, with dark-tinted windows, and except for the logo on the grill, he'd have never guessed it was an M-B: it was tall and boxy and looked like it was built with spare parts from Range Rovers and Volvo wagons.

"Distinctive, isn't it? It's a G-class, sort of a Mercedes Hummer; an eighty thousand dollar car, would you believe?"

"I believe there are people who'd _pay _that much for it." Clearly, Bobby didn't think much of it, but Grunge thought it looked kind of Army-surplus cool.

"Come on, boys, let's head in."

14


	6. Run for Cover

Bobby looked over the living space of the house Anna had picked for a hideout: open plan, with the kitchen, living, and dining areas combined into one huge space. Most of the first floor was visible from the garage entry. He was surprised to see that there was almost no furniture; combined with the vaulted ceiling, the place looked cavernous. He wrinkled his nose at it: typical McMansion, pretentious and generic.

Kat was in the kitchen, opening cabinets. "Huh. The only furniture is three chairs at the kitchen counter, but the fridge and cupboards are stocked for a siege."

"Hey, I've got teenagers," Anna said, as she followed him in with Grunge. "You've got to set your priorities."

Roxy descended the stairs towards them. "The bathrooms have towels and stuff, but there's _nothing _in any of the bedrooms, not even a mattress on the floor. How long are we going to stay here?"

"No more than an hour, I hope. Less, if I can manage it."

"An _hour_?" Grunge looked around. "You spent, what, seven figures on a house we're gonna use for an hour?"

"Leased, actually, and it was dirt cheap; but yes." She nodded towards Kat, who was building a sandwich. "Grab a bite, guys, take a shower if you want – three bathrooms – but don't leave the house, and be ready to saddle up as soon as I come up out of the basement. Where's Sarah?"

"Still upstairs."

"Make sure she knows, sweetie. There's a set of keys on the kitchen counter. Would somebody move our shopping bags into the back of the other car? Pack em tight; somebody's going to have to sit back there." She disappeared down the stairs.

"Toss me those, dude, I'm on it." Grunge glanced at Rox. "Give me a hand?"

Rox glanced at him, then Kat. "Sure."

After they left, he said, "What are _they_ up to?"

"Petty mischief, Bobby. Harmless, as long as someone's watching." She handed him half her sandwich. "Anna's the one I'm concerned about right now."

"Yeah. It isn't just suddenly being able to shoot down helicopters. She's acting like a stranger." He took a bite, but chewing was a dull job; her sandwiches were usually pretty good, but he couldn't work up any enthusiasm for eating.

"Yes and no. Sometimes, she's just like always, even when she's giving orders; other times, just looking at her or listening to her voice gives me a chill."

"Me too. Like watching a split personality." He glanced towards the stairs. "What do you suppose she's doing down there?"

"I'm almost afraid to find out."

"Well, I'm afraid not to." He set the rest of the sandwich on the counter. "Coming?"

"Absolutely."

As soon as they were far enough down the stairs to see the basement, he knew _this_ was where Anna spent her time in the house: part of it was laid out as a workshop of sorts, with shelves and pegboard on the walls, all loaded with tools and containers. A monitor and some other electronic gear hung from one wall. Anna sat at a small table, watching a flickering image on the screen. She had her right elbow on the table, and a steel tackle box with the lid up. Inside, standing in neat rows, were the biggest bullets he'd ever seen. She picked up a remote and froze the image: the street in front of the house. "What's up, guys?"

"Came to check up on you. What are you doing?"

"Couple things, actually." She nodded towards the monitor. "I've got a camera covering the street out front; since we're the first occupied house on the street, everybody drives past it. It records at two frames per second, and I'm replaying it, backwards, at a hundred. I'm seeing if all our neighbors are home; they are. Also looking for cars that don't belong to the neighbors, delivery vans and utility vehicles that aren't gone by dark, that sort of thing." She picked a shell out of the box and examined it carefully. "And I'm reloading." She pressed the round against her inner bicep. A seam opened bloodlessly, and she pushed it in. it showed clearly under her skin until she pressed the lump sideways, and it disappeared.

Kat's mouth twisted. "That looks sick."

"Told you it was Rube Goldberg."

"Yes, but you didn't tell me what a Rube Goldberg is."

"Oh. It's Jack's reference; I should've guessed you wouldn't recognize it. He's an inventor who makes these unnecessarily complicated contraptions that don't look like they could possibly work. I have to be careful loading the rounds in; they're more susceptible to misfires than the old M-50's, but when they work, they _work_. Wish I had time to give the barrel a good cleaning, but it can wait."

"Anna, we need to talk."

"I know, hon. We have a _lot _to talk about. We'll have some time when we're back on the road, if you want. Or if you want private talk, when we're home safe, my time is yours. Okay?" She carefully removed another round from the box.

"Why are we still in such a damn hurry?"

"Hon, you think those were the only agents IO has in the area? Once the chase was on, every IO goon in San Diego County was converging on us. That little dustup back there-" she tipped a head towards the back of the house, and the hills above it, "-let us break contact just long enough to reach here. By now, they're back in communication, and the manhunt is full on again. They're covering the road right now, looking for any place we might have got off it; they'll find a way into every house in this subdivision in the next twenty-four hours. We have to be _long _gone by then." She inserted the shell; judging by the empty spaces in the box, it was the second. "Eat, drink, and clean up. I'll be up in a few minutes. Maybe you guys want to put some drinks in the car?"

"All right, Anna, I'm going, but I'm holding you to that promise." She turned and started up the stairs.

Anna looked at him. "What, not hungry?"

"Already had a bite." The exact truth. "So, if we're in such a hurry, why are you bothering to reload? You're not planning another shootout, are you?"

She picked up a third shell and looked it over. "Just in case."

"In case _what_?"

She pushed the third shell in carefully, not looking at him. "In case one of the men we ambushed sprinted up the ridge with a pair of binoculars, and saw us come down the hill. In case the wrong kind of satellite was overhead when we broke contact on the ground. In case somebody on IO's payroll happened to be in the right place at the right time." She pulled a fourth shell out of the box and looked it over. "In case they're outside right now, waiting for us to come out … or getting ready to come in." She pushed it in and watched it disappear. "If that happens, the whole plan is blown. None of us will get out of here unless someone stays behind and holds them off." She reached in for the last shell. "If you get separated, try to stay with one of the girls; they've all got getaway money."

He leaned over the table and gripped her upper arms, covering the slit in her bicep. "That's _not _happening, Anna. We're not leaving anybody behind. And _I'm_ not leaving _you_. Dad would never forgive me, for one thing."

She locked eyes with him. "Bobby, I've already had this discussion with your father. It's my decision to make. If he were here, _he'd _leave me."

"No, he wouldn't. I don't care what he agreed to do." He leaned further, until their faces were inches apart. "Okay, you've made your decision. Now I'm making mine. If you stay, so will I. You say IO wants us alive; maybe knowing I'm here will slow them up. But I'm not getting in that car ahead of you."

Her gaze softened, changed in a way he didn't recognize. "God, you are _so_ much like your father. You come on all manly and resolute like this, it gives me _very_ un-motherly thoughts."

He pulled his hands away. "What?"

She smiled. "Oh, I don't have any trouble telling Jack apart from my baby boy. It's just that you have so much of what I love about him, you make me hungry for my man." She pushed the last shell in; the seam sealed itself and disappeared. "All right, you win. I promise I won't do anything brave and self-sacrificing, and we'll all leave together, okay? But I still need a few minutes down here."

"Anything I can do?"

"Make sure everybody knows we're leaving in the other car; if anybody left something personal in the van, get it out. And don't forget your skateboards." She closed the box and started the picture up on the monitor.

As he left, he paused at the bottom of the stairs. "Anna, I, uh, started thinking of you as family quite a while ago, you know? And, I guess I never told you …"

"Yes you did, about two minutes ago. And not for the first time. Love you too, baby."

-0-

After the kids left the basement, Anna ran the video monitor backwards until she'd viewed the traffic for twenty-four hours prior to their arrival. Satisfied that no strangers were still in the neighborhood, she activated her tracking system. The kids appeared in a tight cluster around her, being in the kitchen almost directly overhead. Jack's GPS still placed him inside the military reservation; his location hadn't changed in almost six hours.

This worried her. Jack's "meetings" with his contacts seldom lasted more than an hour, and it wasn't like Jack to stay in one place for so long when he was in danger of being observed. She had installed his tracking device in his watch, a battered specimen from his Team Seven days that he took off only in the shower. If they had been separated by flat ground, he would be just inside com range; given the intervening terrain, the chances of raising anything but static were slim. She decided to try anyway. [Jack, can you hear me?]

[Where are you? What's wrong?] His response was immediate, as if he'd been waiting for her call, and impossibly clear; he must be _much_ closer than his GPS.

[Jack, where are you?]

A pause of seconds, then: [If you're who you say you are, you _know_ where I am. Where are _you_?]

She hadn't planned for this possibility. Their com was low-power and encrypted, but if IO had one of them prisoner, and was trying to lure the other into giving away their position … her voice on com wasn't even real, a digital construct that let her communicate silently. He used a wrist mike and ear bud that let her hear background noises, but she hadn't heard a thing. Was she listening to a digital version of Jack's voice? [If you're who you say _you_ are, you know where _I _am.]

[All right, how do we break this log jam?]

[Just give me your recognition code.] If Jack were a prisoner, he might be able to pass some information to her; if he were dead, communication would probably end now.

[There is none such. Open the pod bay doors, HAL.]

She caught the reference; was it enough? _No._ She might accept it as proof that the speaker knew she was a machine intelligence, but had IO finally missed her and guessed her whereabouts?

[Close, but no cigar, Mister. One more chance, and then I close com.]

She heard him pull in a breath; if it was a simulation, it was a good one.

[Anna … I …]

Horrified, she realized that he was about to Say It.

_Oh, God, don't let him say it, it's something they might guess and I'd have to discount it; I __so__ don't want to hear it for the first time like this. Please, God, don't let him say it …_

[I don't know how we're going to break this impasse; but the next time I see you, you're getting another performance review. A thorough one.]

_YES! _[I'll be ready. I bought girl stuff, lots. Are you wearing your GPS? Your voice is _way_ too clear; it made me suspicious.]

[I'm in an old observation tower, eighty feet in the air, at the top of the ridgeline. You're at the depot near Pomerado, I presume?]

[We ran headfirst into a squad of IO at the shopping mall and had to shoot our way out. We're all together, unhurt, and on our way to the safe house, scorching the earth behind us.]

[Oh, of all the crappy luck.] She could imagine him shaking his head. [They were supposed to be tailing my man, but he lost them there. They stumbled on you while they were looking for him, I think.]

[That fits with what one of them told me. But they're hot on our trail. I don't know if we can wait for you, Jack.]

[You can't; I have to stay here for a bit. Suddenly I've got a lot of work to undo, things I've set in motion that have to be slowed down a week or so. If I let you guys be sighted in Europe at the same time you've been positively ID'd in San Diego, a lot of our friends are going to get burned.]

_Those people aren't __our_ _friends; they don't even know us. A lot of them aren't even __your__ friends; they've been coerced or bribed. But you'll risk capture to keep them safe. And they'll know they can trust you, next time you come to them. _[If you wait that long to move, you'll have to run the gauntlet; you'll likely be spotted.]

[I'll have to ditch a tail then. Phoenix or Vegas?]

[Phoenix. I don't fancy a trip through Death Valley right now.]

[Fine. I'll see you tomorrow – you know where and when.]

[What's your pet name for me?]

[Still not sure about me, doll?]

[Just checking; can't hurt.] _Or maybe I just wanted to hear it._

A pause. [When did I last tell you that I love you?]

[Never, in words.]

[Just checking. Now, get the hell out of there.]

-0-

Upstairs, Bobby found the whole crew in the kitchen: Kat was playing short-order cook, mostly feeding Grunge; Rox was nibbling on some sliced veggies, and Sarah was talking, up on her soapbox as usual.

"-not saying it was a mistake to put her in charge; what choice did we have? She certainly seems to know what she's doing. But nobody _else_ does; we were left completely out of the decision loop. If we're really on the same team, we should have discussed all this, and made plans together. As it is, we don't know what we're doing until she tells us to do it. We're being herded like sheep."

"Well, if she'd told_ me_ about all this," Rox said around a celery stalk, "I'd have thought she was sipping too much house current. Can you remember, all the way back to this morning, when we all thought the most exciting thing she did was beat rugs?"

"I didn't have a clue … not about anything," Kat said. She turned away from them, and set a skillet on the stove. "It seems our little Barbie doll is leading a rather full life."

Sarah swiveled in her seat to face him. "How much did _you_ know, Bobby? And how many secrets is she still sharing with her _baby_?"

He felt heat rising to his face. "Back off, Sarah. I knew about her and Dad, night before last. That's all. Everything else is coming at me from nowhere, same as you." He leaned past her and gripped the edge of the counter. "Except I'm taking it better. Kat, where's my sandwich?"

"Gone. Talk to your roommate, the human garbage disposal."

"Sorry, dude. Who knew you'd come back for it? Can't let one of Kat's Dagwoods go to waste."

"What do you mean, 'taking it better'? I'm the only one here who sees what's going on!"

"Oh, I know what's going on." The heat wasn't just in his face any more; he could feel the flush working its way down his neck and arms. "Down in that basement is a person who's prepared to do anything, even be shot to pieces, rather than see _us_ suffer a fate she thinks is worse than death. She's not _programmed _to do it, and she doesn't owe it to us." Her eyes and nostrils widened, shock and anger plain on her face. "She loves us, even you, Sarah. If you can't give that the respect it deserves, keep your contempt to yourself, because I'm _sick _of hearing it."

Kat broke in, her voice low and urgent. "Bobby, take it easy. You're going to set off the smoke alarm." He smelled it then: scorched plastic. He lifted the hand holding the countertop; the surface underneath was blackened.

Then the noise rolled over them.

It started as a low rumble at the edge of hearing, but it grew quickly, filling the room. The kitchen window vibrated like a plucked guitar string; the skillet Kat had set on the stove slowly slid across the ceramic surface. And the sound got louder.

"Earthquake!" Grunge snatched Roxy's hand and pulled her towards the door.

Anna's voice came from the top of the basement stairs. "No! Wait. Not an earthquake; it'll pass." She hardly got the words out before the sound began to fade. Half a minute later, though, they could still hear it; the volume pulsed, now a little louder, then fading again.

"What is it, then?"

The little cyber cocked her head, frowning. "Two, maybe three AV-8s – Harriers, to you – passing over the house, practicing ground attack maneuvers in the dark. The base is only two ridges away, after all." She raised her eyebrows. "Sometimes they host naval aircraft off the carriers. If you think _this _is bad, you should hear a flight of Hornets cracking by on afterburner a thousand feet up. It sounds like a gas explosion next door, and dust _poofs_ out of the registers." She grinned. "It happened when the realtor was showing me the house. After we picked ourselves up off the floor, she cut her initial offer in half."

"Gawd. Why would you even _build _a house here?"

"Wasn't like this when the state sold the land to the developer. It was choice secluded property with beautiful views, perfect sites for high-end housing; there are about half a dozen parcels like this, scattered through these hills. But right after construction started, the latest round of base closures doubled the number of Marine aircraft at Miramar. Between the increased volume and the more aggressive training schedules, military overflights jumped from maybe twice a week to five times a day. It doesn't help that there are serious bad feelings between the base personnel and the developer; with base housing so short, they'd like to buy, but they can't meet the developer's price, and he wouldn't rent them. I'm sure he would now, but the folks at Miramar aren't in a mood to negotiate anymore. So he's holding out, hoping for peace to break out so he can sell these places at his intended profit, while the flyboys detour over his subdivisions, blowing off the shingles. The only residents are people who put their money down in advance, and now they can't sell them."

"There must be rules against buzzing these houses." Kat was dubious.

"There are. But the pilots at Miramar were overflying this area during training long before there were houses here, so there's a precedent established. And in the current climate, the developer knows he won't get an injunction against servicemen preparing to defend their country."

"Okay, so this neighborhood gives you your choice of houses, and not many neighbors," he said. "But why stop at all, Anna? Why not run for it after we shook loose?"

She shook her head. "The pause wasn't long enough; the search was bound to widen faster than we could outrun it. So, we had to find a way to sneak through the net."

"In a Mercedes Yuppie Hummer."

She smiled at him like he'd done a trick. "Exactly. You see, one of our neighbors has a car just like this. The plates registered to _our_ car are one digit different, and I've already altered them. We won't raise any suspicion, because, eye-catching as it is, this car _belongs_ here; being unusual just makes it more likely it'll be overlooked." She looked at them all, gauging their understanding, he supposed. "We roll right past the pickets and the traffic cams, and by the time they figure out how we got out of the area, we're in _another _car, or maybe safe at home, even." She stepped to the coat closet and pulled out a couple of items. "Then we lie low. Jack's been spreading a lot of disinformation these last two years, working hard to give IO the impression that we're a highly mobile group with no permanent base of operations. After twenty-four hours, we could be anywhere in the world, and IO will figure they lost us; we'll be as safe in Escondido as Kuala Lumpur." She turned to them with an armload of clothing. "About time to go, kids. Let's discuss seating arrangements. The Mercedes is only a five-seater; somebody's got to lie in the back with the bags."

"Got it covered, Anna." Grunge was wearing his most helpful and innocent expression. "Been moving stuff around with Rox. There's plenty of room back there for two, now."

Kat raised an eyebrow. "Really…"

"Come on, Sis, keep your mind out of the gutter." Roxy grinned. "There's not a lot of room for _four_ in the seats, not when one of them is you. We'll behave ourselves, mostly."

"We _are_ going to need extra room," Anna began.

"I always take front passenger," Sarah stuck in. "Is there some reason that doesn't fit in with your seating plan?"

"No, if you want shotgun, Sarah, that's fine; it was going to have to be either you or me."

"Settled then." She slid off the stool and headed for the garage. He looked at Anna, who clearly had more to say. But she shrugged and followed the Indian Princess out to the car, with the rest of them following. Sarah was buckled in by the time they got there, cementing her ownership of the seat. Grunge and Roxy got in the rear passenger doors, flowed over the back seat, and disappeared in a patter of rustles and giggling.

Kat made for the driver's door, but Anna stopped her. "Hon, Bobby's got to drive."

"What?" He and Sarah said it together.

"The neighbor who owns this car's twin is a forty-year-old anesthesiologist, male, about Bobby's size." She passed him the bundle in her arms, which turned out to be a blue-and-white windbreaker, ball cap, and a pair of glasses with no lenses. "Chargers fan. He sometimes wears a hat, which is good for us. Wear the bill forward, and slightly to the right." After he put it all on, she passed him the keys, and he got in.

Sarah looked at him sourly. "So, who am I supposed to be, your little wifey? Where's my disguise?"

"Um, that's the other thing," Anna said from behind him, as she got in the back with Kat. "He's single. I've taped him driving by the house dozens of times, and he's never had a passenger. Not once."

"So-"

"So we all have to lie down across the seats when we may be under observation, which will be most of the trip. That's why it had to be you or me in the shotgun seat, Sarah; Caitlin couldn't squeeze under the steering wheel."

Sarah stared at him, then at his lap. "I-"

"We're okay until we get halfway to the main road. At that point, we'll be under observation from the traffic cams. Might as well unbuckle now, Sarah."

She opened her mouth; he beat her to it. "Don't get any funny ideas while you're down there. I don't need the distractions while I'm driving." You could almost hear the snap as she closed it again.

"Hon, if I lie on my side, with my back against the seat, I think you'll have more room. No way to keep our noses out of each others' navels, though."

Sarah's jaw muscles jumped. "This is the best choice you had for a getaway car?"

"Our other neighbors are a professional couple. They drive a Solstice and a Beamer Z4, both two-seater convertibles."

He looked for the outside mirror controls; nothing was ever where it belonged on these foreign jobs. "Anna, can I run the seat back at all?" Anna had been last behind the wheel, no surprise; he felt like he was sitting in a washtub.

"Take what you need, Bobby. We'll manage."

He finally found the seat control and stretched it out as little as he could stand. He looked down at his lap, imagined Sarah's head there, and ran it back another inch. "Okay?"

"Fine. We go when you're ready. It's only half a mile to camera coverage, so I suggest we get down now and settle in."

In the rear view, Kat and Anna dropped out of sight. The car bounced around a little, then he heard Kat say, "This isn't going to work. I'm falling off the seat."

"No problem, hon. I'll get on the floor."

"Sorry."

"This was my idea, remember? This dress was never coming clean anyway." Then, wistfully: "It was pretty, though. How you guys doing back there?"

Grunge answered, "Comfy cozy. Sounds like we got the best seats in the car." A short giggle from Roxy, abruptly cut off.

Sarah slowly lowered herself across the center console as if she were placing her head in a guillotine.

"Sarah," he said softly, "we've been closer than this before. It'll be all right." She didn't give any sign that she heard. He lifted his right arm off the wheel and rested it on the seat back.

She tucked her legs up tight and lay down facing him, trying to rest just the top half of her head on his right leg. It didn't work; the console dug into her ribs. Scooting up until her waist lay across it put her nose in _his _navel. She pulled away and came up hard against the wheel; she made a disgusted sound and pressed her face back into his stomach. With her arms crossed in front of her, she couldn't keep off the shifter; she lifted one over her head and laid it alongside his left thigh, the other along his right side, and pressed closer. "This is _excruciating_."

She was all over him, filling his senses: the clean-rain scent of her hair; the pressure of her body, rising and falling as she breathed; the warmth of her seeping into his skin. He felt her lips move as she spoke, her breath on his stomach, right through his shirt. _Why didn't I zip the jacket?_ "I'll say."

He knew his breathing was going funky, and he couldn't do a thing about it. He took his arm off the seat back and reached down, drawing his hand sideways across the back of her neck.

She went rigid. "What are you doing?"

He dropped a handful of her heavy raven-wing tresses onto her shoulder. "Getting your hair off the floor. Cop an attitude, I'll let it lay there and get dirty. Probably step on it when I work the pedals, too."

"Did you bring that scrunchie from the other car, dear?" Weird. Did Anna's voice sound … too sweet?

She was still tight as a bowstring. "I can't do this."

"Trade with Anna, then. On the floor."

She took a deep breath and let it out. "Let's just go. How long do we have to stay like this?" The lights in the garage went out as the door began to rise; Anna, he supposed, though he had no idea how she'd done it.

"Traffic's light this time of night: an hour, maybe. We're taking a roundabout route, one that our neighbor might use on his way to work - for a while, till we're clear of the dragnet."

He shifted the car into drive, bringing the shifter tight into her back; she gasped, not with pain, but at the touch of his arm. He jerked his hand away, and the shifter immediately popped into neutral; the engine revved.

Anna said, "We can't keep doing _that._ It'll attract attention."

He pulled the shifter back as gently as possible, pressing his wrist against her back, pushing her even tighter against him. "Good thing your waist is so small, I'd never keep it in gear."

"I can hardly breathe."

_Join the club_, he thought. "Let's roll." He eased the yuppie wagon out of the garage, onto the dimly lit street, and turned towards the road.

"Caitlin, hon, can you reach a window control? It's getting kind of stuffy in here."

_Why should Anna care? She doesn't need to breathe. We might as well be underwater._

Nonetheless, she was right; as soon as Kat cracked the rear window, it got a little easier to breathe. Now he could see the intersection ahead, where the cul-de-sac joined the main drag. There was the traffic light; they were too far away to see the camera, but he was sure it was there, pointed their way. At this hour, the signal wasn't fully operational, just flashing red on this road and yellow on the other. The road was deserted for as far as he could see, except for a single set of headlights coming in from the right. The headlights became a vehicle that approached the intersection, slowing. The flashing yellow light revealed a black Suburban. "Shit. Black Rider at one o'clock."

Sarah twitched and bumped the wheel.

"Which way is he going?" No tension in Anna's voice. "Is it turning down this road?"

"No. Going through the intersection, moving right to left."

"Good. We're going the other way. Turn right at the light."

The Suburban passed under the flasher and into the darkness. But just as its back end disappeared, he saw the flash of its brake lights. The Black Rider pulled over to the shoulder and doused its headlights.

"Trouble. They've pulled over, just past the intersection. Looks like they're waiting for something."

"Bobby, they're probably on picket duty. Remember, _Doctor_, that car's nothing but a traffic hazard to you. Come to a stop at the light, but don't linger; give it a glance but don't stare. Pull away and drive like you're on your way back to the hospital."

He eased up to the stoplight. He could just make out the back of the Suburban when the caution light flashed; then it disappeared into the dark again. He took a right and pulled away, with most of his attention on the rear view. No lights came on behind him. "He's staying put."

"Good, we're over the first hurdle."

They got half a mile before a pair of headlights appeared in the rear view, getting larger with frightening speed. "Shit."

"What _now_?" Sarah tried to push up and see behind them. It didn't work, but it did bring the two of them chest-to-chest with their faces an inch apart, and her waist in the circle of his right arm.

"Dammit, get _down_," he hissed. She dropped. The headlights rushed up behind them and pulled left of center; a dark-red coupe zipped past, its tail lights already shrinking in the distance ahead. "Just somebody in a tearass hurry."

"Stop cussing, Bobby," she said. "It scares me when you cuss." Her hair was on the floor again, but he couldn't do anything about it; he needed both hands to drive.

Five minutes later, she said, "My arms are falling asleep."

"Wish the rest of you would."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah, Sarah, I'm having a _ball_. I'm trying to drive this POS like I do it every day, when I can't even find the freaking wiper control; my gut clenches every time a black car comes out of the dark; and I can't look at the gauges without seeing _you_ glaring up at me. I wouldn't miss this for the _world_." If she kept this up, she was going to break her record for the number of times she rubbed him raw in a single day.

They drove in silence. The scenery in the headlights was as dark and barren as his mood. Then she spoke, so softly he could barely hear.

"I hate not having a choice, that's all. I just hate not having any choice."

It was the closest to an apology he'd ever heard from her. He didn't bother to remind her that she could have switched with Anna; he knew that wasn't what she was talking about. Some of her hair, trailing down her back, lay under his hand. He touched his fingertips to that heavy silk, a feather's touch that he prayed she wouldn't notice. His reply was just as soft. "We always have choices, Sarah, but sometimes every one of them sucks."

17


End file.
